Play With Me
by Piano'sIrishTater
Summary: Alfred and Arthur, as well as the rest of the cast of APH, have been cast in the mysterious and fantastic award-winning Broadway play Arch!But what happens when something that is supposedly just a fictional story becomes a horrifying reality? UsUk
1. Cheesy Goodness!

There was a certain beat to the way he walked, to the way he did ALL the things that he did, that just drew my eyes like an insect to a burning flame. When he was on the stage, dancing, singing, speaking, I could never bring myself to look away, completely enthralled in, well, HIM. The way he tossed his short blond hair, strutting around like he owned that stage, not really caring what any of the other cast members were saying about him. But offstage… it was like he was a completely different person. He gave everyone else in the room a wide berth, like if he got near them, it would be the end of the world, and rarely spoke a word. Mostly, he just sat alone, frowning, his (kind of bushy) eyebrows furrowed delicately as he stared at the book in front of him.

He always dressed nicely, wearing formal things even though it was around 100 million degrees outside right now. I figured it was just a British guy thing. Also, when he sat, I had noticed, he crossed his legs in that extremely girly way, like women have to sit when they have dresses on so they don't show everyone what's going on down under. Sometimes, when I knew he couldn't see me, I just stared at him while he read, watching his expressions change, though they rarely did, as the story proceeded, his luminous green eyes first dark with rage, and then swiftly turning to a lighter, softer color as he reached a funny part, his mouth breaking out into the grin that I only usually saw on the stage.

And so I was drawn to him in a way even I couldn't understand, no matter how hard I tried.

Right now, he was on the stage, flaunting his stuff, and I had the privilege of being next to him. Incidentally, in the musical we were doing, _Arch,_ I played his character's best friend, Thomas Galati. He was my roommate and detective partner, Daniel Seolist, an aspiring young man with dreams of someday solving an impossible case without the help of our boss, head detective Cedric Kipling, played by the guy we had all come to know as Roderich Edelstein. He was a quiet, consistent guy who did what he was told in his own way, really bringing out his character's personality. As the boss, he was always the smart one, telling Arthur and I what to do, how to do it, and when to do it by, leaving no room for mistakes, which was why my character was always in trouble.

Today we were running the whole first act, which was all about how he and I met at a detective school, began living together, and got assigned to our "leader" who takes us on our first official case ever, the murder and rape of a very well known bartender from one of the best bars in town. Left with no evidence, we eventually have to give it up and leave, but" Daniel" just can't let it alone. After all, this was a good friend of his, and he wants to find the criminal and put him behind bars with an almost frightening passion. I was the comic relief in the whole tense situation, never knowing what I was doing and usually screwing things up. Almost like the Pink Panther, but not. Because I didn't have a weird French accent.

The second act hadn't been released to us yet, but our director promised that it would be a massive plot twist that no one would see coming. It sounded pretty epic, but I couldn't even begin to imagine what it could be. Like, does the criminal turn out to be the head detective? Did "Daniel" end up finding his bartender friend dude alive? Did I end up doing something useful so I could be the hero? I hoped it was the last one, because that would be so cool! Of course, it was Arthur's character who wanted to solve his own case, not mine… but the audience would never see it coming! A useless sidekick, nothing but the friend of ANOTHER useless sidekick, and then…. BAM! HEROOOO! I save the day with an elegant swoop of justice and… something else!

Meanwhile, back in NOT Alfred Land, they had just finished the last lines of the act, and we were finally given our break. I decided that today was as good as any other to finally talk to Arthur for real, off the stage, where I could actually figure out more about him. As I stood there, mind babbling, he walked away, grabbing his coat and going down the stairs. Before I could let him get away, I called out to him.

"Hey! Wait!"

He didn't turn, probably assuming I was talking to someone else, since anyone rarely asked him to wait up. I ran over to him and pulled on the sleeve of his shirt, which he, thankfully, DID notice, turning around with a look of irritation, like I had interrupted something important.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked me crankily.

"I… Uhhhh…." What had I been about to say? Had I even PLANNED what I was going to say?

He raised one eyebrow, looking seriously unamused with my lack of actual word formation. "Well that was a riveting conversation, really it was, but I have some business to be attending to at the moment," he finally said after a few more stutters from me, turning away and beginning to leave again.

"No! Stop! I mean, dude, your shoe is untied…" I said, again forgetting why I had come over here to say and getting distracted by his loose lace.

Blinking a few times in surprise, he looked down to confirm my statement. When he turned back to me, he glared heavily, crossing his arms and looking indignant. "No, it isn't."

"Oh… well… I thought it… I'm Alfred!" I said, changing the subject quickly.

"I already know that. Don't be stupid. We had to do all those exercises to get to know each other at the beginning of the production, so obviously I would know your name. Not to mention that we've been cast as best friends in this bloody musical. Putting your idiocy aside, not to be rude or anything, but was there something that you wanted from me?" he wondered, sounding rude despite what he had said.

"I just wanted to get to know you and stuff! I thought that we could be friends in REAL life too, y'know, so then in the musical we'd be even awesomer together! You always look so alone, I just figured maybe you were shy and needed someone to talk to you!" I said, triumphantly remembering why I had wanted to talk to him and pulling a hamburger from my coat pocket and biting into it, grease dripping down my chin.

I was a little surprised when he did a sort of double-take at me taking out my burger , pure shock written all over his face, which melted into delicate disgust when I felt the juice dripping. He was regarding me with a look of arrogance as I chewed and wiped off all the crumbs and ketchup from my face with my sleeves.

"YOU want to be friends with ME?" was all he asked, though I could tell he wanted to say more.

"Mmhm!" I mumbled, my mouth full of food.

He considered for a moment, looking me up and down until, finally, his face broke out into that rare smile, though his eye was twitching in an almost concerning way. He gave a couple awkward laughs and told me, "I-I don't know if you could take being my friend, you wanker. There are so many other people who are just dying to have the chance to get to know me!"

I cocked my head, genuinely surprised. "Wow, I didn't know that! Like who?"

His smile faded a little and he looked frazzled and thrown completely for a loop. "U-uh…"

"Oooooooohhh! My little Iggy has found himself another man! My poor, defenseless heart! How could you replace me so quickly, _mon beau? _In the prime of _l'amour _as well!" Out of nowhere, the guy I remembered was named Francis, who was playing a minor role, leaped across the stage, latching himself to the unsmiling British man in front of me and making kissy faces at him.

"Get OFF OF ME FRANCIS!" he growled, pushing the Frenchman aside, who just laughed in a funny way.

"Did you two used to date?" I asked.

"NO!"

"YES!"

Looking more than aggravated now, Arthur pushed hair that had fallen into his eyes out of the way. "We never dated! Look, Alfred, you see why I get out of here as quickly as possible? It's because this bloody wanker is stalking me like the pervert he is! And Francis, Alfred is NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" With another flip of his hair, he turned his back on both of us and stalked away, clutching his coat and his book tightly in both fists.

Francis waggled his eyebrows after him and turned to look at me. "He is fun to mess with, _non?" _Then someone was calling his name and we both turned.

Oh! I remembered this guy! His name was…. It was, uh… Gilbert! He was telling Francis to hurry up, that the awesome him and Toni were going to leave without him if he didn't get his French butt moving. He laughed again and, waving good-bye to me, went off to do who-knew-what with them. I looked away after Arthur, planning to go chase after him again, but suddenly, I registered something very slowly. I turned back to the "trio" quickly, and among them, I found two other, smaller boys, who were walking out with them.

MATTHEW? Well, look who was finally making some friends! When I noted his hand in Gilbert's, I was sure they would treat him nicely and, satisfied with that, I took off after Arthur once again. He had left the theatre and was sitting in the outside room, drinking tea and looking ticked off beyond belief, unnerving me with the way he was gripping his cup's handle.

"Hey!" I said, going over to where he was. "It's, uh break now, so we can go get dinner and come back, you know. So, I was wondering if you would wanna come with me tonight? We could go to McDonalds!"

When he shot me one of the dirtiest looks he'd given anyone all night, I figured he would say no, but to my surprise he stood up, snapped his book shut and calmly drank the rest of his tea, putting the cup back in his man purse. "Alright," he sighed. "But we aren't going to McDonalds. Don't be a twit. Let's go to some place with class."

"Okay! But I'm driving!" I called and ran out ahead of him, energy pumping through me.

Like a gentleman, he walked slowly and calmly after me, getting into the front passenger's seat of my awesome Mustang, raising an eyebrow at the pile of wrappers sitting on the seat before closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, so that he could pretend he wasn't touching them as he pushed them onto the floor. "Bloody hell, Alfred, that is DISGUSTING."

"Yup! You can just put that stuff anywhere… So, hey, like, where are we going dude? I don't really know how to get anywhere else from here than home and, obviously… yeah. So what's happening?"

After taking out some hand sanitizer and thoroughly dousing his hands in it, he sat down and pulled the seat belt across his slim, girlish chest. Well, flat-chested girls, anyway. "Hmm… anywhere that isn't French or fast food. Let's see…"

"Why no French?"

"Look, I appreciate that you are taking me out for dinner and all, but I'd also love if you would stay out of my business. It just brings up some… rather disturbing memories. If you didn't realize that when Francis came up to me. Which, though I barely know you, I have already depicted that you are rather slow and a little bit stupid, so my guess is you didn't."

I watched him as he glared out the window, his eyes like pure, hard jade with his ferocity. I started the car, still glancing at him and rolled down the windows, though I had air conditioning. Truthfully, I just wanted to see his soft, angel-like hair blow in the light breeze there was tonight. As I put my Stang in reverse and looked through the back to be sure no one was coming, I wondered, "So you DID date him?"

Immediately, he started to stutter all over the place. "N-n-n-no! We didn't- I mean we hadn't…. What I mean to say is…. It wasn't exactly…" He went completely silent and still, and for about a minute, we stayed like that.

I glanced over, just to be sure he still planned to answer, only to find his face red and his eyes troubled deeply.

"Yes," came his true answer finally. "Yes, we dated. But it was a little while ago, nothing too recent. That was in high school. And barely decided."

"So… you're gay?" I turned to look at him again, wanting to see his face when he answered.

"Y-yes… you don't have a problem with that, do you?" His voice reached me, soft and musical with the accent that just captivated me, wrapping around me with its sadness.

I turned back to look at the street thoughtfully right in time to see the light turn red and speed right through it. Though cars were honking at me incessantly, I kept right on going. It appeared that Arthur hadn't noticed, so I just tried to keep a normal, steady voice with him when I said, "No, I don't have a problem with that! I'm gay too!" I knew I had sounded too excited when his head shot up and his piercing eyes were gnawing at my soul viciously.

"Really…" was all he said, eyeing me keenly.

"Yup!" I continued driving in silence, until I saw a restaurant that I remembered going to a couple of times that fit his qualifications. It wasn't fast food, French, or McDonalds, plus, in my opinion, it was pretty classy. I turned in, already anticipating what I was going to get.

"Wait. Please tell me the restaurant is somewhere BEHIND this one!" Arthur complained. When I stayed quiet, he yelled, "ALFRED! The Golden Panda is NOT CLASSY!"

I laughed at the look on his face as I pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. "It is too! It's classically Chinese! It isn't French or fast food, so I assumed it would be alright," I told him, a smile across my face. "C'mon, you'll like it!" I got out of the car and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of his reluctance.

Hastily, he pulled his hand out of mine, blushing lightly. "Alfred… I don't really… I'm not sure what to eat here."

"Just get anything that looks edible! It's a buffet, y'know, so you just, like, take a plate and get all the stuff you want! If you still don't know what to get, watch me and get what I get!" I said, trying to appease the nervous look on his face, but only making his face squidge more.

"I'm not sure I WANT everything you get…I might die of intoxication or poison or something."

I burst into laughter, taking his words as a joke. I started to walk in, pulling a burger absentmindedly from my pocket, but Arthur grabbed my arm, surprising me so much that I turned to look at him. "Sup?" I asked.

A look of pure disbelief was dominating his face. "Are you BRINGING THAT IN?"

"Bringing wha…? Oh! Um, yeah, I guess I was planning on it!" I took a bite, just to emphasize.

When he crossed his arms and set his hips, I knew I was in big trouble for something I did. I'd watched him on stage long enough to memorize his reactions to things. "No. Absolutely not. Drop it right this instant! You are NOT taking that in!"

I looked from him, all full of cold anger, to my beautiful hamburger, all full of warm juice and cheesy goodness. Arthur didn't have cheesy goodness. He just had a few anger problems. Feeling part of me die, I slid it back into my pocket, saving it for my after dinner snack later. I was already drooling in anticipation, which I probably wouldn't have noticed if Arthur hadn't taken out (what were those things?) a tissue majigger… Hanky! That was it! If he hadn't taken out the gayest looking pink hanky covered with lace and wiped the saliva off my mouth anally.

"You," he muttered, "are SO revolting!"

"Okay, okay MOM! I think you got it!" I countered, taking the hanky from him and immaturely holding it up high so he couldn't reach it.

He jumped a few times in vain, causing me to laugh at him like a jerk. But it was kinda funny that he was leaping at it and… it wasn't as funny when he punched me so hard in the stomach that I lost all the air in my lungs and doubled over. "Ow…" I gasped, giving him his stupid tissue back.

He "harrumphed" and put the piece of cloth back into his suit pocket. "You deserved that and you know it."

"Man." I frowned, rubbing my throbbing abdomen. "Taking you on a date is no fun!"

Halfway in the door, he froze, still as a statue, before turning around to look at me, his eyes slightly less sharp than they had been a few seconds ago. "Taking me on a date? Is that what this is?"

Now I went still, and thought about it for a second. Well, we were going out to get something eat, just the two of us and… and I kinda liked him. He had agreed to come with me, but then again, we barely knew each other, so maybe it WASN'T a date, maybe it was just two co-workers going out for a little dinner. Leaning more towards the second idea, I shook my head. "Nah! I was just jokin' around!" I chuckled, playfully ramming my shoulder into his.

He looked unamused at my behavior, maybe even a little hurt, which surprised me. Turning away again, he stalked into the restaurant, his hands curled into angry fists at his sides. I followed him inside slowly, wondering just what it was I had done to ruin our night out together already.


	2. Manpurse vs Satchel

When we got inside, I paid for the both of us at the counter like a man, with light protests from the Brit scowling beside me, which I ignored. We were taken to a table by a small, very petite Asian girl who looked tiny even next to Arthur, who wasn't all that tall himself. She asked what we would like to drink in a heavy accent, making it difficult for me to understand her. Seemingly unaffected by the confusing words, the Englishman across from me ordered some type of tea that I didn't know about. I didn't know much about tea in general, so that wasn't really a shocker. I ordered some Coke and the woman nodded once, jerkily, and left, her strides surprisingly long for someone with such short legs.

"Alright!" I said, leaping up. "I want some food! I'm starving!"

Arthur looked uncertain. "But shouldn't we wait for her to get back so we can get our drinks first?"

I brushed off his worry with a wave. "Nah, she'll remember where we were sitting!"

"But what if they give the table to someone else?"

"Man, you are such a worrywart!" I told him, ruffling his hair, which earned me an infuriated glare. "C'mon, leave your manpurse on the seat and they won't give the table up! I want to show you some of the awesome food they have here!"

He stuck his nose up at me with an offended air, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. "It is NOT a manpurse. It is a satchel. Common enough mistake… For the uneducated, that is. And I am staying here until she gets back, because I am not a rude bastard like you."

With a theatrical sigh, I sat down again. "Kay, if that's what you wanna do I guess… Y'know, I don't really see the difference between satchels and manpurses. They're both handbags that men carry around like purses, so shouldn't they just be manpurses? Why give them a fancy, gayer sounding name? Seriously, I just don't get it!"

Arthur looked like he had been mortally wounded in a battle or something. "BECAUSE, you simple minded idiot, they are FAR FROM the same thing!" Then he went on to tell me the history or something about satchels and how they have been worn by all sorts of important foreign dudes that I didn't care about. I spaced about halfway through, staring at his mouth moving intently, wondering what it would taste like, imagining what it would feel like pressed against my own.

Not long after he had finished, the little Asian lady came back with our drinks, which I thanked her for politely, mimicking Arthur's sweet, British words without the accent.

"So now do you understand?" he asked, gently taking a sip of his tea.

I did the same with my Coke, unnecessary slurping noises coming from my straw. "Uh huh! Can we go now? Please? I'm practically dying from starvation over here!"

He rolled his eyes at me, but got up, leaving his "satchel" on his seat and following behind me as I strode over to the buffet and began to fill my plate ten miles high with every food that didn't look like it was an egg or eyeball of some sort. I got some weird smelling noodles, lots of chicken, rices, and sushi, plus those delicious rolls that only Asian people could pull off, the ones that melted in your mouth. When I checked behind me to see how Arthur was doing, I found him a little ways away, staring with unbridled concern at some kind of food, nothing on his plate yet. Balancing my own dish on my hands, I came over to see what was up.

"Hey, what's going on dude?" I asked him.

"Is this… EDIBLE?" he gasped, looking like he felt sick.

I investigated it, staring at the brown liquid with all sorts of chunks floating in it with my keen eyes, picking up on anything that looked unusual or dangerous. "Well, yeah, I'd say it IS edible, but not even I would eat that! Don't dwell too much on the weird foods, and go more for the ones you can recognize. Here," I added, taking some chicken off my plate and putting it on his.

"That's chicken, right?" I couldn't blame him for being hesitant after whatever it was we had just seen.

I gave him an enthusiastic nod before taking his arm and gently dragging him over to where there was more chicken and rice and then, letting him have at it, went back to the table and began to shove all my food into my mouth, taking minute breaks so that I could take a sip of Coke, only to start piling food back into my mouth again seconds later. He came over after a little bit, his plate still virtually empty, only covered by a few pieces of chicken, a roll, and a pile of one type of rice. He ate all of them delicately, quietly testing the flavors of each before sticking it into his mouth all the way.

I finished long before he did, getting a few more plates full every few minutes. When I decided I was done with the normal food, and he had finally finished, I took him over to the ice cream and dessert counter, which he seemed to enjoy much more immensely. We both got a small ceramic bowl full of chocolate ice cream, mine smothered with gummy bears, jelly beans, and chocolate chips, his with only whipped cream on the top. Sitting back down, I glimpsed over at him as he took the first bite of his, causing the fluffy white cream to get all over his face.

With a thump, my heart took off as his tongue flicked out and licked up all that it could reach, which left the majority of it, really. I felt my own tongue twitch in desire, wanting so badly to just press my mouth to his and let myself go. It was like he was BAITING me, the way he acted and how he moved. Surely he had to be doing it all on purpose…

"Why are you staring at me like that?" he growled, finally seeming to notice I was looking at him. "I know I have whipped cream on me, but I was just about to wipe it off, so go back to your own ice cream." Just then, he brought a napkin to his face, about to take away the mess and bring my fantasies with it.

"Wait!" I called unintentionally.

Instantly, he froze, his eyes sliding to mine over the nicely folded piece of paper. "What?"

Going with my feelings, I just said what was on my mind, no filters. "Don't move…" I whispered in a husky, deeper tone that caused him to flush pink.

"A-Alfred, wha…"

But he never got to finish, because I had already leaned over the table and placed my lips unhesitatingly onto his, silencing whatever he was about to say. The sweet taste of the cream he had put onto his ice cream filled my mouth, and I parted his lips, searching hungrily for more. I heard a noise of surprise come from his throat, but it didn't sound like he was protesting to me. Encouraged, I deepened the kiss, letting my tongue roam through his mouth.

But that was too much for him. Suddenly, the surprised noise DID sound like protest and I felt his weak shove on my shoulders. I pulled away from him, opening my eyes and sucking in air, smiling to myself because I had DONE it. He, however, didn't look so pleased. His face was dark red, his hand pressed to his mouth, his green eyes bright and suspiciously damp. Okay, so kissing him like that out of the blue hadn't been the best idea… The more he stared at me with those violated eyes, the more like a jerk I felt. Especially when he stood up, grabbed his coat and manpu… satchel, and stalked out of the building, telling me that he would wait in the car, his voice wavering.

I hopped up after him, grabbing two fortune cookies from the basket on the front desk before we left. He got to the car and I unlocked it, letting him get in and then sitting down on the driver's side next to him. I quietly put a cookie in the hand closest to me, which his fingers closed against with a violent crushing sound. I bet he had thought that was my hand or something.

"Arthur?" I tried to make my voice light and muted, but as usual it came out loud and abrupt.

He didn't respond, only sniffled a little. Had I really made him cry with just one kiss?

"Arthur, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to kiss you like that, I just… I mean, with the whipped cream… you looked… I wasn't thinking. It was stupid, just like me." It was a stretch to say that line, but I had a feeling he was the kind of guy it would work on, the kind who felt superior to all other human beings on the face of the planet.

When he turned to look at me, eyes puffy and red from crying, I couldn't help the mental "bingo!" that shot through my head. "You ARE stupid, you bloody wanker!"

Looking as sad as I possibly could, feeling fake tears welling up behind my own eyes, I jutted my bottom lip out and looked down miserably. "Yeah… I know."

"Stop trying to make yourself look bad, you bastard! I'm not falling for the 'I'm so innocent, look at my puppy dog face that will make you want to love me' thing that you're trying to use! That may have worked for you before," he added on, "but it'll never work on me. You're too old to be cute, anyway." His voice was less wavering and upset now, and more fierce and sure.

Success! "You're right; I AM too old to be cute. But I'm the perfect age to be sexy!"

He made a scoffing noise and took out the hanky I had slobbered on so that he could blow his nose on it. I wondered if he used the same hanky for everything, then decided I didn't really want to know the answer to that. "But I really am sorry… I didn't exactly mean to do that."

"You're a wanker," he responded.

"Hey, what IS a wanker exactly?"

Looking out into the blackened sky, his face lit up with a dark humor. "I'm not quite sure that you really want to know."

Frowning at the road, I whined, "But I do! Tell me tell me tell me!"

"No, no. I'm positive it would ruin life for you."

"Just one word? Dude, I'm pretty sure my life won't be changed by much. I'll just have a bigger vocabulary!"

With a snarky grin he said, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. The technical dictionary definition says, and I quote, "A male masturbator."

I couldn't help the stunned look that shot across my face. "So… like, this whole time you've been calling me a masturbator? How would you even know if…?" I paused for a moment, realizing something else. "Wait, did you say "…and I quote?" Does that mean you've been looking up "wanker" in the dictionary?"

Whatever response he had had to my question died after I said that. It was replaced with a whole lot of stuttering and blushing that had me laughing my butt off at him. "N-no! I did NOT look it up in the dictionary!"

"But you said…"

"FORGET WHAT I SAID!" he shouted furiously.

I chuckled some more at him while he steamed, until we pulled back into the parking lot of the theatre, which was already extremely filled. Almost reluctantly, I looked at the time on my car's clock, and realized we were about fifteen minutes late. Arthur had noticed too and looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. We ran inside, both praying that the director, Elizaveta, wouldn't be TOO mad at us.

Unfortunately, if Arthur had looked like he was going to have a freak out, Elizaveta looked positively psychotic. She was running around, pulling on people, and begging them to tell her where the two most main characters of the story were. While she was hanging off a guy I recognized as Feliks, we spazzed in and he told her, "They're like, totally right there!"

She stilled and turned around extremely slowly to look at us, dark purple waves of anger visibly emanating from her, her eyes hell bent. Her long, wavy brown hair flowed around her almost like Medusa. "And just what do you two THINK YOU'RE DOING?" she shrieked, throwing a shaking finger to point at us.

"Uh… sorry! Traffic was a serious nightmare!" I said quickly, scared for my life. "We tried to get here as fast as we could!"

"T-T-TRAFFIC? TRAFFIC, YOU SAY? WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THE COMMON SENSE TO PLAN FOR TRAFFIC!" Out of nowhere, a frying pan appeared in her grip and she came toward us, shaking with pure, unadulterated ferocity.

"D-don't blame me! This wanker took me to eat! I wasn't driving, nor did I have the time on me!" Arthur squeaked in an attempt to save himself, cowering behind me.

She stopped right in front of us, fire blazing in her eyes, frying pan poised to smack, teeth gritted into a mentally unstable smile… and handed us our scripts joyfully. "I have finally revealed the second act! It took me awhile to write, but I did it! I DID IT! And now, you two need to get up on the stage like good little boys and NEVER BE LATE AGAIN!"

We did as she said, seeing how she had a weapon and all. Roderick was already onstage, investigating his girlfriend's script with an unwavering, level gaze. I almost looked away, to start reading my own part, when I heard him gasp. "Elizaveta, though I realize that you are the director here, I would like to make a protest to this!"

She smiled maniacally and shook her head no. "There is ABSOLUTELY no complaining, Roddy dear! I already wrote it, and that is how it STAYS! Now, all of you! Set up for the first scene! Let's go, go, go people! Feli, dear, go get me a water from the vending machine, will you? Okay, aaaaaaand….. ACTION!"

In the first part of the second act, something suddenly had happened to our teacher, or Cedric and he had fallen ill, sending us on the bartender murder mystery all alone. I had assumed this was the plot twist, but as I went through, I realized that it couldn't be, that the climax hadn't even come yet. When it finally did come, Daniel caught the criminal, or who he THOUGHT had been the criminal. We had put him in jail, the cops taken him in, when suddenly, all alone in our room together, relieved about putting a criminal away, Thomas and Daniel… and suddenly, we got to what Roderick had obviously protested to Elizaveta about.

"Wh-wh-what is this?" Arthur gasped, staring at his script in sheer horror. "We have to KISS? And have SEX? And why in bloody hell am I ON THE BOTTOM?"

"CUT! Like I said, Arthur, I already wrote it and that is how it STAYS! I realize while it may not be the most… desired thing for you, you are an actor, and your character wants Thomas like that. I was really on a role this time! And then, in the midst of their passionate embrace… Thomas makes a confession! HE is in fact, the murderer all along! It's… it's… BRILLIANT!" She erupted into psychotic laughter before calming down again. "Oh, and try to make your sex look realistic, okay? Plus, you're on bottom because you look more like a woman and, let's face it, you are SO AN UKE!"

"I'm a WHAT?" Arthur demanded angrily.

"It's the girl in a homosexual relationship," Roderick explained hastily. "But, Eliza, why do I have to walk in on them doing THAT?"

"So you can hear Thomas's confession, duh! Then you can put him behind bars and the world can be safe from the menace of innocent, clueless little Alfred! Alright, enough complaints, let's get back to the show! And yes, you two, I DO expect you to get naked in front of everyone. Okay, start the scene, and… ACTION!"

I looked at my words, barely believing this was actually happening to me. I was actually going to get to pretend to have SEX with him. Blushing lightly, I said my lines, seducing my co-detective with my most warm, intoxicating bedroom voice, almost not acting anymore, though I wouldn't have chosen those lines in specific. He turned a much deeper red than me, obviously resisting the urge to hide his face as my intimate words echoed off the back walls for everyone to hear. It was his turn to speak, but he seemed frozen in the moment as I loomed over him, taking his head in my hands. Under my breath, I whispered, "Say your line."

He complied, saying his line, but his voice was way too quiet and wavering, and I knew before she did that Elizaveta would scream, "CUT! Project, Arthur, PROJECT! I want to be able to hear you in the very back of the auditorium! I want people OUTSIDE to be able to hear you!"

"I-I… I can't do it!" he yelled, sounding seriously ticked off. "I just can't!"

"You ARE AN ACTOR! You don't get to say that you can't! So get your butt back over there so Alfred can do it already!"

"Well then maybe I QUIT!" he spat back, embarrassment written heavily on every feature of him, even in his stance.

He was embarrassed to be pretending to do that with ME, I told myself. He was willing to quit because of ME. Feeling my heart begin to ache, I pulled my hamburger from earlier out of my pocket as a nervous habit and began to eat it, upset.

Talk of quitting got Elizaveta to pay a little more attention than before. "Okay, okay. Please don't quit. But, Arthur, hon, I really do need you to do this part, because it's the whole ending of the play! It's the climax! It's the big surprise that nobody expects! Don't worry, it'll only last as long as you make it last. Okay, now I need you to reset and do it again!"

To my surprise, Arthur complied, letting me back on top of him like before. "If I have to do it," he said, seeing my expression, "then I'm going to do it as fast as I bloody can."

With Elizaveta's cue, we started the scene again, and this time, we made it all the way to the end.


	3. Diamond Studded Cuffs

**Read and Review, if you pwease 3**

The second musical practice was over, Arthur was gone. I had planned on following him again, just like before, maybe ask him to hang out or go get a drink, something like that. But almost instantly after my character got taken to jail and the last scene ended, he had yanked on his coat and stormed out the door. I probably would have let it all go and waited until tomorrow to try and talk to him again, if I hadn't spotted that manpurse of his lying forgotten on the floor. In a rush, I pulled on my own jacket, which had been forgotten on the floor after our imitation sex scene, and ran over, picking up the bag, and then sped out into the parking lot, trying to catch him before it was too late.

It probably had important stuff in it, so when I watched as he jumped into his car, I felt a feeling of dread start to well inside me. Wait! I could call his cell phone! I pulled my phone out of my pocket, reaching to poke at the buttons, before I realized I didn't HAVE his number. That idea rejected, I decided to just hop in my car and follow after him. It took me a few seconds to get to my car and then get onto the road I had watched him pull out onto, but he was still in my line of sight, luckily, so I just went everywhere that he went, mirroring his moves until, after about an hour, we pulled up outside a really nice-looking, expensive apartment building.

He pulled into a spot close to the front door, marked with a number. Ah, so that was how it was? Numbered parking? Not wanting to take anyone's spot for too long, I tried to hurry, but only managed to find a place AFTER he had gone inside. Quickly, I yanked his manpurse off the seat and my midnight burger out of my pocket, barely noticing when some ketchup slid down onto his bag. I ran inside, but Arthur was nowhere to be seen, already gone off to his own little… what did they call them in Britain? Flats? Anyway, I ran up to the front desk, my hair sticking up hectically. The guy behind the counter looked formal and intelligent. A first class snob. Just because I wanted to, and because I wanted to see this guy get mad, I rang the service bell repeatedly, even though he was standing right there.

He cleared his throat in annoyance, put his hand over mine, and said, in a voice that matched his appearance, "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Alfred," I told him pointlessly. "I'm looking for Arthur Kirkland's apartment number!" Again, just to provoke him, I took a big, loud, slobbery bite of the hamburger in my black-gloved hand, chewing noisily.

"Yes, I'll just look him up then," he grumbled, sticking Arthur's name into the computer, giving me disgusted looks. After a few minutes of scrolling, he looked up again, over his glasses. "That would be apartment number 365."

I looked at him blankly for another second… and then rang the bell one more time, dashing away as soon as I saw a vein on his neck bulge, his face turning an unattractive, spotty red. I made my way over to the fancy glass elevator on the other end of the lobby, jabbing the down button a couple times before I heard a ding noise and doors opened wide for me. I hopped in and the doors closed, as if they knew I was already inside and ready to go. I punched the 3rd floor button and felt myself begin to raise slowly, classical music playing quietly in the speakers, which I absentmindedly began to make fun of by humming and patting my leg to the beat.

It reached the floor quickly, and, with another ding, the doors opened up and I went up and looked through the hallway, finding his number on a door close by me. I raised my hand to knock, already feeling excitement building inside me about getting to see him again and where he lived at, but something made me stop, put my hand down, and just try the knob like I lived there. I did, and was surprised to find that Arthur, overly careful guy he was, hadn't locked his door. Already looking around hastily, I pushed my way in, no sign that the Englishman was here in the least. After I was all the way in, I let the door creak shut slowly behind me with a patronizing squeak.

Arthur's apartment was big, with a nice kitchen and eating area, a small living room, and what looked like two bedrooms. His decorations were what could be expected of him; a little bland, but with a kick that made it more… noticeable. They went together nicely, and that was probably all that mattered. I walked over to his black sofa and dropped his satchel there, still searching for the man I was looking for. It wasn't even that huge of a place, how could I lose him in here? Tired of waiting, I collapsed onto the couch with a sigh and called out to him.

"Arthur, I'm home!"

Silence answered me.

"Iggy!" I tried, having heard him been called that by people occasionally.

Nothing but an eerie creak. For the first time, I began to feel a little worried and stood up again, padding around through his rooms. First I checked the living, kitchen, and dining areas thoroughly. Finding nothing, not even dust because he was just that anal, I went and pushed into the first bedroom. It was decorated neatly and formerly, so I just assumed it was his guest room or whatever, but he was nowhere to be found, so I left. Feeling a sick tug rising inside me, I opened the door to what had to be his bedroom, my heart throbbing wildly, my mouth suddenly dry, expecting to see something horrifying, like in those horror movies…

But again, there was nothing. Just a neatly made bed with a sleek black bedspread, a huge UK flag hung up on the wall behind it, and other creepy decorations of sorts. The walls were painted a soft blue, almost completely coated in demonic posters that made me whimper just looking at them. Despite my terror, I spotted a small bathroom attached to the room, and felt compelled to check it out, just to be sure. I went and looked, found it emptier than emptiness, then turned back around.

So… this was Arthur's room, huh? A grin flashed across my face as I thought of all the possibilities of what I could do in here… I decided to start with finding out what clothes he wore on days when he WASN'T at the musical. First, I dug through his closet, mostly uncovering more of the formal junk he always seemed to have on. But, as I went deeper into its depths, I found the kinds of things I never could have imagined him in. He had normal jeans and t-shirts, hoodies, even a couple of tanktops, that I promised myself one day I would make him put on. The further I went in, the more interesting the outfits seemed to get. Skinny jeans, holey ones, chains, those totally sexy half shirt things that showed your stomach, torn-up tops, even a few girly clothes, like a skirt that almost made my nose bleed imagining it on him, and tights.

Mystified, I could barely contain my excitement when I peeked through his accessory drawers. I wasn't disappointed. The first thing I pulled out was a spike collar, like the kind you put on dogs to make them look tough. Next I found some fingerless mesh gloves, a chastity belt with the British flag on it, a few different kinds of rings, like for ears, noses, belly buttons, and fingers, and, kinkily enough, diamond-studded handcuffs that shone in the lamplight when I removed them.

"Oh…my God…" I breathed, my hands shaking suddenly. "THIS IS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!"

Motivated to move on, I searched through his shoe collection next. I had to admit, he had some pretty amazing shoes collected here. I swear, he had one pair of every color of Converse known to man, the normal ones, and a couple pairs of the kind that went up to your knees. He had some flats, and though I knew almost nothing about shoes, I knew they were popular just from how many people wore them around. There were boots, thick buckled ones, dainty girly winter ones, ones like Link's from Zelda. There were even some dancing shoes, the ballerina kind, and tap shoes. I almost laughed out loud again when I found the bunny slippers and flipflops shoved away, even more so when I came across high heels.

Ah, so apparently Arthur had a little cross-dressing fetish.

This thought threw a wicked grin across my face and gave me all the courage I needed to slink back out into the room and rummage through his dresser drawers. The first one I opened was full of minute books, all stacked neatly together, but worn around the edges, indicating that they were used often. Unhesitatingly, I reached in a sweaty hand and took out the first one my hand made contact with, flipping it open.

Words coated every inch and I finally realized just what it was I had found here. Arthur Kirkland's deepest, darkest secrets, all contained in a convenient little series of novels just begging to be opened and read. In other words, his diaries. I was amazed at how many there were, all full of his scrawling, nearly illegible tiny writing. I flipped to the front of one, and noticed the date was set back about ten years ago, when he was only… twelve, it looked like. Checking around guiltily before I went back to the book, I began to read his younger self's words.

_Arthur Kirkland, December 23__th__, 1998_

_It's Christmas Eve today… and Mum said that Dad won't be coming home this year. Again. He's always so occupied with work, it isn't fair! I know he's out there, fighting for our country and all, but shouldn't he at least be allowed home for a small while? It really stinks… and Peter has been sobbing all day. I don't like babies; I shall never have one when I get older. I told Mum that yesterday and she laughed, but it sounded fake. I think she really misses Dad. She's never happy when he isn't around. All she does is walk about, barely eating or saying anything… Because of that, I have to do all the cooking… I HATE COOKING! Mum never eats it anyway, and Peter always spits it out! So I just end up making food for myself and watching as the two of them starve… I really hope I get to see my dad again, and maybe tomorrow will be a better day. After all, it's Christmas! Santa's going to come!_

I turned to the next excerpt, feeling my heart give a painful squeeze. This little kid sounded nothing like the Arthur I knew now. What had happened to change him from such a cute little guy to the hardened, closed off man I knew him as? I decided only another entry would answer me and I went on to read it.

_Arthur Kirkland, December 24__th__, 1998_

_Santa didn't come to our house for Christmas this year… He didn't even leave us a bloody piece of coal! Not one new toy to play with or candy to eat to make myself feel better about Dad… Speaking of which, Mum decided to break the news to me today of all days. Dad… Dad was killed. Mum had called up Dad and told him how much I wanted him to come back home, and they were going to surprise me with my father as a Christmas present, instead of spending the little money we have on new things. On the way to the airport, there was a drunk driver… he smashed my dad inside his car… and my mum had no time to go get me something new…_

There were more words, but the ink was so smeared by what could have only been tears that it was no longer possible to read. Feeling guilt well up inside me, I put the diaries back, exactly the way I had found them, and went to lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why something like that had to happen to an innocent, happy-go-lucky young boy who had just been looking forward to seeing his dad again… it explained so much about his personality now, the way he wouldn't let anyone in… Ten years later and still the effects of that tragedy were lingering in everything he did and said. Out of the blue, I decided that, most likely, that wasn't the only tragic thing that had happened in his past.

I thought of the way he had cried after I kissed him yesterday, the way he had held his mouth and looked up at me, staring with those accusing, completely VIOLATED eyes, like I had just molested him or something. Anxious to know more, I slid back off his bed and went back to the diaries, picking up another one at random and flipping to the front. This one was more recent, from his teenage years.

_Arthur Kirkland, March 23__rd__, 2002_

_Stupid, stupid bastard! I'll show him to mess with me! He thinks he can get away with everything, just because he's got all the friends! I don't need friends to show him who's the boss! Damn wanker, always shoving me around… I bloody HATE Francis Bonnefoy with a serious passion, I swear! All the girls want to date him, but I can't see why anyone would want to. So he's French. Who really cares anyway? Everyone knows that French people are just a bunch of homosexual asshats who think it's okay to just go around and sexually assault people! I'm getting tired of him touching me like that… but what can I do? My mom refuses to acknowledge my existence, just spends all day with a picture of Dad like that's normal! And I'm stuck caring for stupid Peter, who's getting more and more obnoxious as he grows… I'm trapped. I'm trapped, damn it, and there's no way out._

Completely enthralled, I flipped the page to the next entry, which was set a whole month later. Looks like he had stopped his daily diary writing when he was in high school.

_Arthur Kirkland, April 25__th__, 2002_

_I can't believe what I've done. I just can't believe it… How could I be so stupid, just letting Francis…? Ugh! Well, on a different note, I've found out something about myself from this experience… something that more than explains a lot of things. I always wondered why I never found the thought of women attractive and now I know, whether for the better or not. This weekend was a significant turning point in my life for me in two ways; one, I found out that… that I'm gay. Two, well, this is somehow harder than finding out I like boys, but… I lost my… virginity. I just got caught up in everything and Francis happened to be there and… that was that. We aren't really dating or anything, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, feeling the wrong kinds of emotions with the wrong kinds of people there to wrongly do the wrong kinds of things with me. That was all. I could never tell Mum…_

I felt my stomach clench nauseatingly. The book fell out of my hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Suddenly, the air was starting to take longer and longer to fill my lungs, my body in such a total state of shock that I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. My eyes were wide open, disbelief invoking inner turmoil. It wasn't possible… he couldn't have lost his… and to Francis… Now I understood what Arthur had meant when he said they hadn't been dating. They really hadn't, but… they'd DONE IT. I wasn't his first. Well, not that I had actually stuck my… in his… So we hadn't actually had sex, just gotten naked together on a stage and made convincing noises, but somehow, it hurt me. It hurt to find out that I could never be his first.

But he could still be mine.

"ALFRED? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Arthur's girly, sudden shriek echoed off the walls of his whole apartment.

I turned, feeling dismal for once, to find the Brit with soaking wet hair and a hot pink towel pulled around his body, much like woman tied theirs to cover their girly parts. His green eyes were wide with terror and then rage as he spotted his diary fallen on the floor and the drawer hanging open. Something about my expression must have made him change his mind about screaming at me like I knew he was going to. Absorbing the mood, his hard, emerald eyes softened, and his fisted hands unclenched, all the tension in his body releasing. I bent down, his gaze following me the whole way, picked up the fallen book, and quietly stacked it back into its place with the others. Then I met his stare head on.

"Alfred," he said again, his tone much more soft and gentle, as if he were talking to a young child instead of just me. "What are you doing in here?"

I glanced down to the floor. "Brought you the manpurse you left in the theatre."

His face lifted in shock. "Did I leave it? Well then it's a bloody good thing that I didn't get pulled over…"

"I would have been right behind you with everything you needed. I followed you here." I couldn't help the feeling of dread that was pulling on my heart strings. Deciding it was better to talk about what was bothering me than keep it in, I asked, "So… you were sixteen? When you… y'know, did it?" Distressed, I pulled a half-eaten burger out of my pocket, gnawing on it anxiously as I watched his expression change once again.

A slow blush had made its way from his ears down, his eyes hardening, just like before. "You… You didn't!" The disbelief that colored his tone was pure. "Alfred!"

Again, I couldn't meet his eyes and looked down. "I'm sorry, I was just in your room all alone, and I wanted to know more about you, so I looked at some stuff… I didn't expect to find THAT, but I did. And you never answered my question."

"You don't NEED me to answer that, you bloody wanker, because you already LOOKED THROUGH MY STUFF! Now get the hell out! I have to put some clothes on." His jaw was stiff, his posture rigid, as if me finding out he'd had sex was pissing him off.

Well, obviously, it was.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Not anything I haven't seen before," I muttered.

He had been on his way to the dresser to get some clothes, but at that, he turned with amazing speed and snarled, "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU BASTARD!" Then a massive book, bigger than any dictionary I'd ever seen, came flying at my face, striking home due to my almost non-existent reflexes. "AND NEVER COME BACK!"

It took a few moments for the pain to set in, but sure enough, after about a minute or two, a stinging sensation began and I felt a warm, metallic tasting liquid dripping down into my mouth. "Okay… OW." Deciding I valued my life, I turned and went for the door. Halfway out, I decided that I should say something dramatic and meaningful, like everyone on T.V. did after having a big fight. Screwing up my face in thought, I decided to just spout what came to my head. "Y'know, I never even would have thought that you would own bunny slippers. I guess I was wrong."

Then I stalked out of the room, smiling brightly and feeling completely accomplished.


	4. When Does it Stop?

**Read and review and you will be awesome like Gilbert!**

Though he had told me to get out and never come back, I knew he didn't literally mean to leave. So I went out and waited on his couch for him to emerge from his room, all dressed and ready for bed. I could hardly wait to see what he looked like in pajamas. He seemed like a PJ pants and big t-shirt kind of guy to me, but when he came out, he had a new set of dress clothes on. Mildly disappointed, I watched as he crossed the room slowly, giving me a scowl, and sat in the big, poofy chair next to where I was. It almost looked like he was TRYING to be mad at me, instead of being ACTUALLY angry. The emotion glittering behind his eyes was more inquisitive than any ferocity I'd ever seen. As a peace offering, I handed him his bag, which he snatched away greedily.

The silence was starting to bug me, and also not allowed, so I decided to break it, since he didn't seem to be anywhere near doing that. "Sorry, I kinda got a TEENY TINY little bit of ketchup on it… but you can barely see it, so…" I admitted, a feeling of satisfaction growing as an annoyed grimace passed his lips.

"You are a complete and total wanker. Can't you do anything without eating a bloody hamburger?"

I thought about, even putting a black-gloved finger to my lip, and then shook my head. "Nope!"

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, investigating his bag for any trace of the condiment stain. Not finding anything, his brow furrowed and he threw an accusatory glance up at me. "I don't see anything! You know what? You aren't just a wanker, but a liar and a bastard too!"

"Look, just because my parents weren't married when they had me…" I started.

He put a small, girlish, long-fingered hand up to stop my ridiculous ranting, a weak grin tweaking at his mouth. "That," he told me, the smile widening, "explains so much." Satisfied with himself, he took a sip of the tea I hadn't noticed he was holding.

My brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't get it… but dude, I really did spill something on your bag! I'm not lying! Also, I don't masturbate, as far as I know..."

Out of nowhere, he began choking and spitting, his tea no longer in his mouth but spewed all over the floor. And on me. "WHAT?"

Again, he had lost me. "Um, you mean the spilling thing or the masturbating thing?"

No longer suffocating, he looked up at me, tears making his green eyes shimmer luminously, his face a perfect pink. "What do YOU think?"

"To be perfectly honest," I said, looking him straight in the face, "I have no clue. I barely know what we're talking about anymore. But hey! What was up with you just leaving the theatre like that? I mean, I didn't think it was THAT bad! Sure, I'm not exactly experienced in the category of intercourseal conemolities, but…"

"Are either of those even WORDS? God, Alfred, stop trying to sound smart!" His eyes shot to the ground, his cheeks burning red again. "But, um… Look, it wasn't really… YOU so much as it was the whole situation. I just don't find it appropriate to do that kind of thing on the stage in front of other people… In fact, I find it very uncomfortable and insulting to even be forced to show off that much of my naked body to anyone."

Without thinking, I protested, "But you have an AMAZING naked body! Though, like I said, I'm not very practiced in these areas since I'm a virgin and all, I still think you could kick most other guys' butts in a sexy body contest!"

It seemed like he didn't know what to react to first. He began stuttering the word virgin, didn't get very far, turned extremely dark red, tried to say sexy, then just settled with a whole lot of squeaks and deep-throat noises. After a second of this, he took a deep breath and a sip of his tea, looked back up, and started over, morphing back into calm gentleman mode. "I-I… did not know that you were still a v-v…" He struggled to get the last word out.

"Yup, sure am! In that one scene, I like, seriously had NO CLUE what noises to make, so I just settled on humming my national anthem. It seemed to work pretty well!"

Disbelief was paint splattered all over his face. "For REAL?" he gasped. "You HUMMED YOUR NATIONAL ANTHEM TO MAKE SEX NOISES?"

I shrugged. "The benefits of being tone deaf, I guess!"

It was like he had nothing to say to that. He looked down to his dress-socked feet, took a sip of tea with a shaking hand, and shook his head slowly back and forth. "I can't believe it… wait, did you just call me sexy?"

Extremely delayed reaction was delayed!

"Actually, I was pretty sure I called you sexy about… eh, three minutes ago or so. But you ignored it and we talked about my shocking expertise in making moaning noises instead!" I nibbled the last bit of my burger up and reached for a new, warm one, taking a huge bite, and trying to chew quietly, without having involuntary grunts come from my throat. I didn't think Arthur would appreciate that, especially on the subject we were on.

Looking annoyed about getting corrected, he said, not meting my eyes, "I think maybe you should go… but first…" He looked back up at me, a new, delicate undertone to his words. "What did you read in my journals?"

I blinked a few times, that being the last thing I expected at this particular moment. "Erm," I mumbled, trying to speak around my mouth full of meat, "Just that when you were twelve your dad died in a crash to come see you for Christmas and you didn't get anything that year." I felt my eyes start to water again and swallowed hastily, removing the food from my mouth AND the teariness from my voice. "And what happened when you were sixteen… with Francis. I didn't see anything else," I answered truthfully.

His eyes had hardened again. "Well, if you had continued to read, you would have heard some more very interesting things." The words seemed to come painfully from his mouth, like a jagged edge was scraping at his throat. "Everything before my dad died wasn't completely okay either. I started writing my journals when I was seven, only because my therapist told me to. He said it was a humane way to release my anger, not in the way I had already began to, with all the violence toward other people and even animals. I used to go around and beat up my classmates who teased me, you know." A small, weary smile appeared.

"They would push me too far, and then I would beat them until they could barely breathe. That amount of anger was unnatural for a young child, everyone always said that. But that was because they didn't know WHY. And because I wouldn't tell them WHY. I couldn't; if I did, I would die. The demons and monsters would come in the night and get me, he said, if I told anyone what he had done. That is to say, one of my second grade teachers. Yes, Mr. Conway, the one that everyone liked because he was so good at teaching and with children! Good with children my ass. Good with touching their privates, maybe, but I didn't learn one bloody thing that year… except that trusting people was no longer something I should do. So I stopped. Instead, I only began to see the darkness in people, which, unfortunately, is a trait I still carry with me today.

"Therefore, I reacted with violence toward other people, including my parents and my therapist. It took me years to calm down and realize what was happening to me. After three years, I finally broke down and let everyone in on what was going on. They couldn't believe how long I'd kept it a secret and they got the cops involved, caused a big scene like I had been hoping they wouldn't. That teacher got arrested. A couple months later, my mum told me she was going to be having a baby, a little sister for me. When she told me, nobody had expected how I'd reacted to it, not even me… I threw a huge fit and punched my mum so hard in the stomach that… a few days later, she miscarried."

His face had gone stark white, and he was staring out the big window behind his sofa that overlooked a busy street, his glassy eyes blankly looking toward the night sky. Tears trickled down his cheeks, but he didn't seem to notice; he was somewhere else entirely. I resisted the urge to reach over and wipe them for him and let him continue on with his story, his voice cracking and thick.

"I killed my baby sister… I couldn't believe it then, and I still can't today… and I…hate myself for it every day. My parents hated me too. They grounded me for months upon months, threatening to send me to military school where I belonged… I started to do everything I was supposed to when I was supposed to then. I did everything they could possibly want and more… I stopped letting myself become angry, just forced into a dull, uncaring feeling. After all, it was easier for my parents if I never got mad and threw fits. But when I started to feel like that ALL the time, they sent me back to my bloody therapist, saying that I was depressed. Of course I was! They had MADE me that way!

"Another year or so later, my mum got pregnant again, but didn't tell me until I asked why her stomach was getting so large, about 6 months in. Even after that, she would stay away from me, keeping her precious baby, though he was still inside her, away from me, not even letting me feel him kicking, wanting to come out to see the outside world. Finally, a few months later, Peter was born, and I was so excited to be a big brother! That is, until they told me I wasn't allowed to go with Father into my mum's hospital room and see him. After we got home, they still kept him from me. Hell, I didn't even GLIMPSE his face until he was about six months old! They still didn't trust me… not until my dad left to go to the war. Only then did I finally get to see little Peter. In fact, I got to see him WAY too bloody much! I was forced to take care of him. After all, clinical depression runs in my family and my mom was down.

"And you pretty much know the rest of the story. Dad died. Nothing much happened in my teen years, despite me having sex for the first time and finding out that I was gay. I stopped believing in foolish happiness and realized how much the world stunk. I continued to care for Peter like a father instead of a brother, though he never mixed it up, until I left for college, which I paid for myself, due to our extraordinarily low amount of money. And now I'm here, a professional actor on Broadway, living my dreams no matter what bastards try to step in my way and stop me. I've had enough crap in my life to fill a mountain up SIXTEEN TIMES. I just can't take anymore! Tell me, Alfred, when does it STOP?"

"Right now!" I answered, taking his hand in mine.

"That was rhetorical."

"I don't believe in rhetorical questions!"

He let out a grievous sigh and shut his eyes. "Why are you holding my hand?"

"You looked like you needed your hand held!"

No nonsense look on his face, he glared up at me under thick, dark lashes. "Have you been an idiot your whole life, or has it just started? Let go of me," He yanked his hand away hastily, "and just go home. I'm sure somebody is wondering where you're at."

As if on cue, my phone began its rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", which I tried to sing along to, failed miserably, and just abandoned the attempt carelessly.

"It DOES sound like you're having sex…" I heard Arthur mutter from the living room as I walked into the spare bedroom.

I laughed out loud into the phone, causing the person on the other end to squeak airily. "Sup, Mattie?" I asked, recognizing who it was as he began "yelling" at me for "scaring him to death." "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry. So, seriously, what up?"

That took him off guard, and for a minute, he said nothing. Then I barely heard him whisper, "!"

I put a finger in my ear, pretended to remove goop, then asked him, "WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU! THE PARTY IS TOO LOUD!"

I could hear his breath catch uncertainly. Messing him was, like, amazing sometimes.

"Uh, okay! Can I s-stay with Gilbert tonight?" he "shouted", which was like normal talking to most people.

Let the torment begin! "JEEZ, MATTIE, YOU DON'T GOTTA SCREAM!"

With a discontent whimper, he said muttered, "Then I guess I'll just go home…"

In the background, I heard noises of whiny protest at Matthew's statement, some shuffling, and all of a sudden, my eardrum was exploding.

"THE AWESOME ME IS TAKING YOUR BROTHER HOSTAGE SO THAT HE CAN BUTTFUCK HIM!"

Then the phone hung up and I stared at it in horrified confusion. What? Mattie? Gilbert? Um, buttsex? Wait, Mattie was with Gilbert, who was going to…? HUH? MATTIE WAS GOING TO HAVE SEX BEFORE ME? Over my dead BODY! A very subtle jealous anger was forming inside me and I slammed my phone shut, stuck it in my pocket, and began to plan. Okay, there had to be some way to seduce him… he'd had a rough night already, so it would be tricky… But come ON! How could I let my quiet baby BROTHER do it before me? It would be an insult to my manly manhood! Suddenly, it dawned on me; the perfect way to get him.

I ran back out into the living room, where Arthur sat, still staring out the window, eyes glazed mistily. In a rush, I started my plan, getting straight to the point. Maybe he was in to direct men. I went and sat by him on the chair, both of us skinny enough for me to squeeze my booty in next to his. Confidently, I put my arm around his shoulder, which made him glare at me hatefully.

"What in bloody hell are you doing, Alfred? Saying goodbye? Don't you dare kiss me again!"

Lowering my eyelids in a seductive way, I said, "Well, I had a little more than that in mind."

"What the hell? Who called you? What did they say to make you do this? Stop touching me, you bastard!" His livid terror was written all over his face.

"Huh? Oh, that was just my brother. He's staying over at Gilbert's house tonight! So, no, nobody is waiting for me at home! Also, make me do what? I was just going to ask you for some help on our new script is all! I wanna practice so we do it right next time!" I explained, feeling an angry elbow digging into my side before I finished.

Already, he was shaking his head no, his short blond hair swinging this way and that. "No, no, no, QUADRUPLE TIMES NO. I don't want to do it again, not now, not ever! I'll do it only at practice, because there, I have to. Alfred, don't be stupid. I know what you're trying to do, even more so after you said where your brother is at. This is all about jealousy because your brother is going to get some before you! I will NOT be your toy to help you get even with him. The thought just sickens me! So, please, I'll ask you for the last time before I start swinging at you, GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU WANKER!"

Feeling a nervous guilt creep up, I stood, muttered a quick goodbye, and left behind the most miserable-looking person I had ever seen. I was so admonished that I didn't even stop to tease Mr. Snotty Deskman, who stuck up his abnormally large nose snobbily as I walked by. Out in the streets of New York City, it was freezing cold, and an icy mist was beginning to fall down onto all the people in the streets, who cried out in surprise, covering themselves up with anything that they could, waiting for it to stop. I just stood next to my car, my warm breath visible in the frigid air, staring up into the dark sky as quick shards of eyes fell onto my glasses, messing up my vision.

Had I really just been about to try and have sex with someone who I really loved just to get even with my brother? How could I ever do something so… so completely WRONG to him? It was called "making love", but I was sure that if he had let me, there would have been no loving intentions behind it. I would have done it for myself; for my immature, childish self. He had really needed me up there, I realized, too late. Arthur had told me his life story, his horrible, awful story, looking for sympathy, because he had trusted me. He had wanted my COMFORT. And I had repaid him with that.

Feeling the wrongness deep inside me, I stared at the cracked concrete beneath my feet. No, it couldn't end like this. Tonight couldn't end like this. I had to go tell him that I was sorry. With a deep, concentrated breath, I sprinted back into the building, past the jerk, up the stairs instead of the slow elevator this time, and through the hallway, my eyes seeking his apartment number desperately. I ran past it at least three times before finally registering that it was his place, but then, when I had gotten my act together, I threw the old, black door open, and ran inside to the living room where I had left him earlier.

My heart shattered.

Lying broken on the ground was a body, surrounded by a pool of deep, scarlet blood.


	5. Come Home With Me!

For a second, air wouldn't come and I was stuck, unable to breathe, staring down at the dead man at my feet. The longer I looked, the harder it became to register whose face it was that I was seeing. His brown, usually gelled back hair was scattered haphazardly around his head, his glasses lying half a foot away from him, snapped into pieces. The look on his face was one of complete peace, his eyes even closed, a gentle calmness about his pale, lifeless features. I took a shocked, staggering step back away from the body, air once again streaming into my lungs, leaving me gasping for air.

Our head detective was dead. And Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

The whole situation too much for me to register, I blurted the first thing I thought, my voice coming out ragged and uneven. "Arthur, there's a dead guy in your living room!"

There was nothing but silence, for the second time that I'd broken into his place. Just like the first time, I shoved through all the rooms, only this time, I found him right off the bat. He was lying on his bed, covers pulled up to his unconcerned, even vulnerable face, his arms curled up close to his face, the perfect picture of innocence. In his sleep, he murmured something very quietly, fidgeted a little, then fell back into his motionless rest, his chest rising and falling in a perfectly rhythmic, slow pattern. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have just let him snooze, but, uh, there was a dead body in his house and that was probably a semi-good reason to wake him up.

So I went up to the side of his bed and reached out to shake him. I moved him quickly, jerkily, but he stayed asleep, his eyelids twitching only slightly, unintelligible words coming out of his mouth. I caught something about biscuits and jam, but tried to ignore the hunger pangs that shot through me at the thought of food and continued to shake him.

"Arthur! ARTHUR! IGGY!" I yelled, shaking him harder and harder. Realizing this wasn't going to work, I depicted another, much more brilliant plan. "Okay," I told his sleeping figure, "If you won't wake up the easy way…"

I took several, massive steps backwards, toward the bedroom door that was nearly across the room and mentally prepared myself. And then I took off, running full out with everything I had, aiming right for Arthur where he lay. A few feet away from the bed, I launched myself into the air with a frog-like spring and for a few unearthly seconds, I was flying through the air like a superhero, before gravity caught up and yanked me down savagely, pulling me directly onto the unexpecting British man.

I landed on him with a low grunt and my eyes closed instinctively. At first, I thought maybe Arthur had a cat I didn't know about or something, due to the noise that emanated from beneath the covers I had squished, but when I opened my eyes again, seeking the source of the sound, only two infuriated green ovals met my gaze. His face was flushed, whether from our close contact or from the fact I was pressing all the air out of him with my weight, I didn't know, but he looked like he was about to fly into a huge rage that involved shrieking like a caveman, knocking me out with some medieval instrument of torture, dragging me into the dungeon underneath his house, chaining me up onto the wall, then waking me up just so he could hit me again.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU-" he started, but I put a finger to his lips, which he looked at as if considering biting it.

"Shh…don't talk…" I told him, just to be stupid, but he got even more P. and shoved me off venomously with surprising strength.

"I swear to God up in heaven Alfred, if you're here for any reason but to say that you are BLOODY sorry, I'm going to strangle you!"

"You really aren't helping your case here… I mean, there's like, a dead BODY in your living room and all, so threatening to kill me just seems… oh, yeah! I did come back to say sorry, though!" I explained. "So, yeah… I'm sorry for being such a jerk."

His eyes were huge, bigger than softballs at this point, almost the size of flying saucers. His face had gone back to its normal pale hue, but suddenly he grew stark white, and I could really see the lines of exhaustion underneath his eyes, the dark circles that had grown there. His mouth dropped open and he gasped, "W-what? Did you say that there's a DEAD BODY IN MY LIVING ROOM?"

I grew tense just from watching him, terrified by the way he seemed surprised, but not in a "Holy shitalking mushroom there's a dead guy in my house? We should, like, call the cops or something!" kind of way. It was more like an "Oh man, I know what's going on and what happened, but I thought I told them to get rid of that dang body!" way. Pretty much, he wasn't reacting in the right way, and for the first time, I began to get a suspicious feeling about him, which saddened me a little. Who ever wanted to blame the person they liked for something as horrible as this?

"Yeah… It's Roderick…" I said, a feeling of dread beginning to weigh down on me as I realized exactly who it was that was dead.

In one graceful, swift movement, he pushed a wall of comforter onto my head, and I heard him race out to survey the scene with his own eyes. I shoved the blanket off and followed after him, a bit slower and way clumsier, but I got out there and saw him kneeling by the body of our former friend, kneeling, head bent as if in prayer. I went and sat beside him, putting a comforting hand up to his shoulder. Only then did I realize, due to the physical contact, what he was truly doing; he wasn't praying, but _sobbing. _He was crying disconsolately, tears streaking down from his disbelieving, wide eyes, so green by now they were almost patronizing.

Between his body-racking sobs, I heard him breathe out my name. He didn't turn, but I knew he just wanted me to listen to what he had to say. "C-c-c-cops…" he gasped, handing me his cell phone.

I took it and hurriedly dialed 911, telling the operator when she picked up what had happened. She told me to be calm and that she'd dispatch the emergency dudes or something like that, like it was her job to do. I closed the phone swiftly and tried to hand the phone back to Arthur, who was still staring sightlessly at Roderick as the blood seemed to seep out of him, draining him completely. I felt the urge to take his hand, and did, kneeling down beside him. It was like he didn't even notice I was there anymore. All he saw was our stabbed friend and coworker, somebody who was still alive just yesterday.

We stayed that way until the cops and EMT's burst into the room, immediately spotting us and going to do their jobs. The ambulance guys wrapped Roderick's body up and put it on a stretcher, taking it out of the room while Arthur continued to sit in the same place, still looking somberly at the blood staining his carpet. I continued to hold his hand, up until the moment where one of the cops came up to us, requesting to talk to us, one at a time. With a nervous glance at my petrified friend, I volunteered to talk to him first, barely noticing when I removed a hamburger from my pocket this time.

He asked me all kinds of questions about millions of things that I could barely remember, but the most important was the alibi question. I was shocked to find that I DID have one, the snooty guy at the front desk. I came and went back so many times there was no possible way for me have done this. I explained my side of the story, realizing how it made Arthur sound up until I got to the part where I came back and he was very deeply asleep.

That seemed to satisfy the gruff man and he told me to go back inside (he had taken me outside, into the hall) and send out Arthur. I complied, going back in and padding over to where he still sat. I gave him a playful bonk on the head, which made him turn to me for the first time since he'd seen what had happened. I told him how the cop wanted to talk to him and munched slowly on my snack as I watched him sway and almost fall as he walked out to meet to the questioning guy. I hoped they didn't think he was intoxicated, with the way he was moving. I saw a couple cops give him a suspicious glance as he passed by them.

I sat anxiously on his puffy armchair, wondering how he was doing out there, having just seen the dead body of our friend in his house, all bloody and… ew. I chewed, thoughtfully imagining how he would answer all the questions I had been asked. Suddenly I realized something, and the burger fell from my hand, falling onto the floor, my eyes widening.

Arthur didn't have an alibi. I had already left when it happened. He had been all alone in his house, so he had no proof that he was innocent.

The rest of the time he was being questioned, I squirmed and fidgeted, unable to stay still. Why was it taking so long? Had it been this much time with me? I didn't think it did, which made me stand up and start pacing, childishly wanting to stick my ear to the door to hear what they were saying. If there hadn't been emergency technicians and cops strewn in various places in the apartment, I most likely would have done it. But there were, and their keen eyes were watching me closely. No move I made missed their attention.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to me, the door opened, and the cop walked inside, looking puzzled and a little bit dazed, Arthur following, looking exhausted. The guy went to confer with his cohorts, murmuring lowly and glancing over at us occasionally. They nodded a few times, also looking puzzled, but then began to pack their bags and well… LEAVE. I hadn't been expecting that. I mean, why didn't they take us downtown or whatever? Shouldn't they question us some more, like with the private room and the light shining in your face and the "Where were you on yesterday's day of tomorrow?" or something like that? Why were they packing up and LEAVING? They had surveyed the crime scene one more time, cleaned up as much of the blood as they could, and now they were walking out the door, chatting casually about how that case had been so easy to solve. When the last one of them had gone and me Arthur were alone in the apartment, I turned my gaze upon him. There was no way he didn't have something to do with this.

"Roderick was my next door neighbor, in case you're wondering," he finally said, unable to take the silence any longer.

"He was? I didn't know that… But, uh, what up with the cops just… going away? I thought maybe… but you didn't even have an ALIBI!"

He ran a hand through his hair, looked at me consideringly, and then he said, with absolute seriousness, "I'm a bloody persuasive man."

It kinda…. Scared me the way he said that, with the shadow hitting his face that way and stuff… his eyes seemed to be glowing, luminescent in the moonlit room, he teeth looking almost….pointed. Oh my God…. "HOLY SHIZ, YOU'RE A VAMPIRE!" I shrieked.

That threw him completely off guard and he looked at me, obviously shocked. "WHAT? You bloody idiot… I am NOT a vampire! Where did that even come from? Look, since it's you, I'll tell you what's going on, but… Alfred, if you tell anyone else, I'll make sure what happened to Roderick happens to you."

My eyes widened and I gasped, "So you DID kill him?"

He looked astonished for a second time, as if this prospect were something he hadn't been expecting. "NO! Bloody hell, NO! But…" he sighed and looked down, as if my eyes were burning painful holes into him with their intensity. "Do you… do you believe in magic?"

"What? No, you aren't a vampire! You're Peter Pan, aren't you? WOW! How come you never told me?"

"Alfred, shut up! I'm not a vampire and Peter Pan doesn't really exist!"

"He could."

"Well, he doesn't! If he did, I would know because I… I'm in league with all the supernatural creatures of this world." He looked up, testing my expression.

I chose to laugh, thinking he was kidding with me, until I took the time to look at him and realize he was completely serious.

He looked aggravated by my laughter and disappeared out of the room, returning a few second later holding the massive book he'd smacked me in the face with earlier. I thought he was going to hit me again for a second, but he slammed it down on a table, showing me the title.

I read it out loud. "Grimmerie. What's that mean?"

He snorted. "It's a spellbook, you numbskull. It's magic, alchemy, things like that. This is what I learned my spells from. Such as the spell that changes people's minds… or makes them think whatever I want them to think. In all, this book makes me the puppetmaster in a world of helpless little marionettes, all ready to do my bidding."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Psychotic! But wait, aren't you supposed to be all gentlemanly and stuff?"

"There are two sides to even the most straightforward book."

"The heck does that mean?" I asked, confused.

"It means you are an idiot. Either way, yes, I manipulated the cops to think that they had already figured out the case, so that they would just leave us alone. I didn't kill Roderick and I don't know who did, but I figure… well, it may be somebody who's after me."

"Uh, why are people "after you"?"

With a grieved sigh, he opened up the book and began to look through it. He paused at one page and showed it to me. It looked like a bunch of illegible scribbles to me, but it seemed to be pretty important to him. He looked at this certain spell with a lifetime's worth of tenderness. I looked at him blankly, and his tenderness disappeared, replaced by a look of annoyance.

"This," he said, "is the spell that is said to bring people back from the dead, if done correctly. It's also incredibly dangerous and made illegal by the highest wizards and witches that there are. But as a child, nobody had told me that it was against the law. I just knew about the Grimmerie my father owned and that I had just… just killed my baby sister. That was my thought process as I stole it from a high shelf in our living room and brought it into my room, following all the instructions word for word. I didn't know how terribly wrong it would go, especially since I wasn't experienced enough yet to even do some of the simplest spells.

"I broke the law, Alfred. I may have only been a child, but I broke the law. And you can be sure that the people in charge knew who had done what, when, and why. They kept trying to take custody of me, tried to put me in jail, but my parents protected me. They fought against them with all their might. I managed to stay just out of their reach until I grew up and left the house. When you become an adult, all charges against you fade and you start fresh. But they couldn't accept that. So now… now it seems they're doing just what they threatened the day I walked out of my house a free man."

"What's that?" I wondered, totally into his story.

"They told me that if I ran, they would find me. No matter where I went, they would seek me out. And when they found me that they would destroy everything I held near and dear, tear my life apart by the seams. Well, it appears that they have found me after all. They've already started. It's why I don't want to get close to anyone, Alfred. It's why I can't risk getting close to YOU. So I need you to leave. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

I looked at him, thoroughly investigating every inch of him. Okay, well not EVERY inch… not for very long anyway. I could see that he was deathly tired from the circles under his dulled eyes, that he really wanted to save my life by having me leave. But also, there was a hint of unadulterated terror in him at the thought of being left alone in this big, empty apartment that had just housed a crime. He looked totally shaken and thrown for a loop. Leaving him here alone would be a crime to humanity itself! After all, I was a hero, and heroes didn't leave damsels in distress!

"Okay, fine, I'll leave. But only on one condition."

His gaze shifted. "What's that?"

I knew he was going to hate me for this next move, but I couldn't help myself. I pulled him up into my arms like a woman while he spat angry curses at me, and walked out the door. "I want you to come home with me!"

He rolled his eyes and said, "Hell, Alfred, you are such a git…" but behind his infuriated façade, I could see just how truly grateful he was to me, even in all my idiocy.


	6. Sleeping Arrangements

My apartment building was, well, it was a little bit less spectacular than his... okay, more than a little. I didn't have snobby desk people (or desk people at all), or an elevator, or even that much room. I had a really small, one bedroom place with a tiny kitchen that was the combined sitting area. Oh, and, of course, there was one bathroom. The whole place was coated from floor to ceiling with all my junk, which was mostly food wrappers, newspapers and books about UFO sightings, and all kinds of movies. Arthur had to shove a pile of dirty laundry aside to actually sit on the small, raggedy brown (I think it had been white at one point…) couch. I stayed standing for my safety and the safety of all those around me.

"Alfred, your apartment is disgusting," Arthur had no trouble blurting, "Just like your car. You really need to hire a maid or something."

I looked at him, shocked. "Hire… a maid?"

It must have been my tone or something, because he glanced up from investigating something on the floor. "Yes, that's what I said. I hire a maid whenever I need my home cleaned. In fact… I would call her right now but it's extremely early and I'm completely exhausted." His face squidged up with worry for a moment. "Um, Alfred, where am I supposed to sleep at? Please, PLEASE tell me you aren't going to be foolish enough to say the couch."

I sighed, also bushed, and told him honestly, "It's either that or in the bed with me. Which is almost positively gazillion trillion and ten times cleaner than the couch, because I've never washed that couch before."

I could almost feel the horror building up inside him as he realized his choices were so limited. "You mean to say, I either have to sleep on your filthy, ugly couch or… or I have to get into a bed with you?" The color drained from his face and I couldn't help the laughter that escaped my pursed lips.

He looked so mortified, I continued to giggle, wanting to make fun of him. "Unless you would rather sleep outside? Or maybe in the car? Possibly on the floor? No, wait, wait, I got it! You can sleep in the nice, comfy bathtub! I just cleaned it yesterday because some weird black stuff was growing on it, so it'll be all purty and shiny for you! Just drag a blanket in there or something and you'll be all ready!"

The more I talked, the further into his shaky, black mood he seemed to slip, especially when I couldn't stop some of my chuckling from escaping as I teased him. Just as I was about to go on, my phone vibrated, signaling a text message. I slipped it out curiously, wondering who would be contacting me this early, then freezing when I saw my little brother's name. Oh, dang! I had completely forgotten about Mattie! With a sinking feeling, I read his message, which begged for me to come pick him up before Gilbert did anything else stupid. I knew he was probably crying, because he was just that emotional, so just ignoring the dumb thing was out. With a reluctant sigh, I shoved the phone back in my pocket, zipped up my jacket, and started to head out the door.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Arthur asked, his horrible mood suddenly gone.

Oh, he SO wanted this!

I threw him a pained look and complained. "My brother is being sexually assaulted and doesn't want to be with Gilbert anymore, so I have to go get him. Matthew's more of a snuggler and less of a… lover? If ya catch my drift… So, yeah, you get the bed. Be back soon," I yelled back to him as I stepped out the door.

I wasn't expecting what came next. Just as I left, shutting the door behind me quietly, it flung open again, slamming against the wall with a bang that probably made all my neighbors think they were being robbed. I didn't even get to turn before I felt a hand yanking on my sleeve, spinning me around forcefully, and out of nowhere I got an eyeful of complete and utter uke. Like, no joke, his eyes looked massive and wide, a light blush seeping across his face, and he for once, he seemed complete defenseless, touchable, even. Almost…. Like, dare I say, like he DID want me! An involuntary, crooked smile crept its way onto my stunned face, which he didn't return. He just continued to stare at me with an intensity that probably would have made any other person squirm.

"Sup?"

Total seriousness masking his face as usual, he asked me, without a second of hesitation, "If you and your brother live together, why is there only one bed?"

FOR REALS? IS THAT ALL HE HAD COME OUT HERE TO SAY? I felt my smile slip into a moderately disappointed frown and explained, trying not to sound pouty, "There's only one bed because we sleep together. The room wasn't just too small for two, but we can't afford another one."

"Why not just live separately then? Why must you two still live together after you've both left the house? It makes absolutely no bloody sense!"

His puzzlement was foreign to me. Not once had I ever considered leaving Mattie behind, plus, we were both dirt poor, so neither of us could afford a place to live without the other. That, and we had always slept together, at least in the same room, our whole lives, so it was just what I was used to. Not to mention I had no idea what my little Canadian brother would do without me. Speaking of that, he needed me NOW. Seeing how he had no car.

"We just don't… he needs me. Well, see ya later, I have to go get him now!" I started to walk off, but was again pulled back by the over attentive Brit O Doom.

"Alfred, you git, if you bring your brother back here, we ALL would have to sleep together, and I'm not going to do that!" he gasped nervously.

He was so cute right now, looking all unsure and innocent. Suddenly, I felt like I was the adult here instead of him, and put a gloved hand on the top of his blond head, mussing his soft, thin hair. I bent down a little to be eye level with him, since I was a couple inches taller despite our ages. "And that's when I kick Matthew's wimpy butt onto our dirt-encrusted couch!" I laughed at the look on his face and spun again.

This time he didn't stop me and I made it to my car, the cold night growing icier by the second. I'd better hurry if I didn't want to be stuck at Gilbert's. That thought guiding me, I pushed down the pedal and drove, as fast as I could without killing myself. Halfway down the street, I remembered something that probably should have been said earlier. I had no clue where this guy even lived. Trying to watch the road, I pulled out my phone and just pressed the two on my phone, which was my speed dial number for him. It took him a sec, but he answered after a few rings.

"H-hello? Alfred?" he sniffled, sounding terrified.

Yup, just as I had predicted, he was crying. This always happened to him. He would meet a guy he liked, wanted to stay with them for awhile, his thoughts all cuddly and lovey-dovey, then that guy would do something that scared the papaya out of him and he'd come crying to me about. For an eighteen-year-old, he sure had a lot of people who came on to him, boys and girls. I didn't exactly see what the big deal was about a scrawny little Canadian who was terrified of everything that breathed and spoke so quietly that you needed a hearing aid just to pick up his words. I mean, here I was, an exuberantly sexy BEAST and they all wanted was Mr. Freaking Cellophane! Maybe he was kinda cute sometimes, but they didn't know how much of a vindictive creature he could be!

"Uh, dude, I have no clue where this guy lives…" I said, a teensy bit annoyed.

He made a sound of stifled surprise at his own ignorance and said, "Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you…"

Anxiously, he gave me the address, and then, true to his nature, proceeded to apologize a million times. I eventually just had to hang up to get away from the onslaught of sorries erupting from his mouth like a waterfall of politeness. Because I was so lucky, I knew where the apartment complex was, and it was exactly where I was, so I pulled in and stole another person's parking spot for the second time. The minute I was in, I felt like I was being watched. I mean, the place was so… rundown! Even more than MY house. A sudden brotherly affection sprouting, I almost ran up the stairs to go save him, wondering why he would EVER agree to go to a place like this with some random, obnoxious guy who had an "awesome" fetish.

Reaching his room, I knocked, ready to kick some booty if I had to, but it was Matthew who opened the door, looking embarrassed by life. He gave me a small wave and itsy bitsy smile, grabbing the polar bear backpack he always carried with him and picking up his stuffed one off the floor. With one more tentative look back into the room from which he had just emerged, he left, taking my hand into his bracelet-wristed one.

"Why isn't he calling out for you to come back yet?" I asked, being yanked out of the ghetto building forcefully.

Panting from exertion (WIMP!) he turned and spoke, almost a silent whisper. "He was passed out because he got drunk after I wouldn't…" Tears found their way back into the younger man's cerulean eyes and he broke off on a breathy sob, just as we reached the car.

I unlocked it hastily, anticipating a complete breakdown from my brother, and also, I was freezing my balls off. I jumped in after him, cranked up the heat, and turned the radio on to his favorite station, the one with sappy love songs, which killed me inside, but I had to do it because he had stopped crying and was singing along contentedly with something called "Hey There Delilah." I had always liked my brother's singing voice, seeing how it was melodic and calming and it DIDN'T sound like he was having sex, and with my ADHD, it was hard to get me to stop spazzng around for five seconds. When I was actually stilled, I felt happy and lethargic, wishing I could feel like that ALL the time. But only he could get me that way and for once, driving was easy to concentrate on.

We pulled into my apartment parking lot, slipping into the spot, and we walked up the stairs, the cold striking Matthew's face and bringing a semi-adorable blush onto his face. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he tried to get into bed and he saw the super HAWT guy that was awaiting his return anxiously. Or at least that was what I wanted to think, anyway. After a few more seconds, we were in our cozy little hole in the wall, and I headed to the kitchen, getting my bedtime snack and anticipating my brother's shriek of pure terror. Just as I was about to give up and go see if he had crawled into bed with MY Arthur, whether on accident or on purpose, I heard the self-gratifying sound I had been waiting for.

Screaming like a banshee, louder than I had ever heard him before, Matthew came flying out of the bedroom, not watching in front of him, his head still facing the room. It was a mistake; he streaked across the room and careened into the butterfly chair I had had in college, knocking it over and landing face first onto the hard ground with a yelp. Laughter exploded from me the moment I had seen the look on his face, and running into my chair only quadrupled the hilarity, doubling me over with the intensity of my guffaws. Then, when Arthur came out, hair stuck out everywhere and rubbing his eyes, asking what the bloody hell was going on and looking intensely annoyed, I stopped being able to breathe. It was WAY TOO FREAKING FUNNY!

"Alfred!" They said at the same time, Matthew sitting up, tears in his eyes again and Arthur still looking pissy.

With a look of surprise they both looked at each other and then back at me.

"Hey, in my defense, I at least told YOU about HIM!" I defended myself to Arthur first, because he was more likely to kick my butt.

He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yes, you idiot, but didn't you even begin to think that maybe telling him would have been a good idea? I mean, he ripped the covers off me and suddenly he was squealing like a demon from hell or something and it scared the crumpets out of me!"

"Oh, by the way Mattie, this is Arthur. Sorry, but you have to sleep on the couch tonight!" I turned my attention back to the raving Brit, who had put his hands on his hips. "Look, are you happy now? Let's just all go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened!" Satisfied with myself, I went into my room, pulled on some pajama pants, and closed my eyes, waiting for the feel of someone else laying down beside me to come.

"You really are a massive asshole," I heard from beside me and I opened my eyes, putting glasses back on.

I shrugged. "It's not going to kill him to sleep there one night!"

An eyebrow was raised. "Okay, fine. Why don't YOU sleep on the couch then, instead of letting your little brother, who is crying again, I might add, suffer through this?"

"I knew it! You just want to sleep with him!" I announced.

"No, I will be sleeping in the bathtub." I tried to narrow my eyes in the dark to see if he was joking, but he seemed fully serious, not budging an inch.

"Fine." I went out into the living room, finding Matthew trying to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions of our sofa, tears streaking his face. "You can sleep with us tonight."

"B-b-but I don't want to interrupt…" he whispered, cuzzling further into the couch.

"Nah! You can just join the party!" I exclaimed, pulling him up and throwing him over my shoulder, dragging him into the room and putting him o my side of the bed. "It'll be a little cozy," I said, climbing in beside him, "but that's just the way I like it!"

I saw Arthur facepalm out of the corner of my eye and I snuggled up really close behind my brother, who squirmed a little, but otherwise did nothing at all. "This is NOT what I had in mind! God, Alfred, this is a horrid idea and you know it!" The Englishman growled, turning to look at a wall, his cheeks glowing.

"Oh c'mon! There's plenty of room left for you!" I said convincingly.

With a nervous scowl, he yanked back the covers and got in on the other side of me, sandwiching me between the two of them. It was extremely cozy squished between my soft brother and my warm love interest, who was now muttering something, having already fallen asleep. Mattie's breathing had evened out, so I had a feeling he was already in dreamland too. I closed my eyes, trying to think of something random, and only being able to think about who was lying next to me, who I could so easily wrap my arms around right now and pretend like it was an accident later. Taking a chance, I did. Throwing me offguard, he murmured again and snuggled into my embrace.

Ah, this was the life!

I didn't even remember falling asleep, but the next thing I noticed was light streaming through my blinds and the fact that my back hurt like I had been whipped a couple of times, skinned, and then whipped some more. With a grunt, I tried to pull myself up, only to find my legs pinned down by a certain Canadian, who had somehow ended up strewn across the legs of both me and Arthur. The British man, however, had somehow gotten halfway below me, yet without being smushed totally by my weight. Feeling sleepy, I just kinda shoved them both off, craving my greasy slice of heaven, as was usual for me.

Somehow I had managed to move without waking either of the two lightly snoring men, thankfully, and I went out to get my burger, alarmed by the sound of my phone buzzing nonstop. After grabbing my food, I answered while taking a huge bite out of my meaty goodness. Mouth full, my greeting sounded weird.

"Hmo?" I asked.

It was Elizaveta, sounding drained and exhausted. "Hey, Alfred. No practice today… or maybe ever again!" she cried, bursting into tears. "Alfred, Roderick is dead! And I just got news early this morning… they found the murdered body of Gilbert in his apartment… he wasn't a main character but… look I quit!" Suddenly the line went dead, and I stared at it in amazement as well as pure fear.

First Roderick, now Gilbert. How could I ever tell Matthew? When had he even been killed? I mean, we had just BEEN there not too long ago and now… now he was DEAD? I thought back to Arthur's explanation of how the magic people were after him because of something he did as a child, killing all those near and dear to him.

But wait, had Arthur even KNOWN Gilbert…?

I didn't have much time to think about it, because the sound of someone's world crumbling down echoed through my mind.


	7. Break Up

It took me a few seconds to register who it was that noise had come from, only realizing when I turned around and saw my brother holding his phone loosely in his hand, staring down at the floor. He looked broken, heart and soul, tears pooling in his eyes and leaking down his face and onto the tile. So obviously, he had found out what happened to Gilbert. He was shaking his head side to side slowly, as if the motion would wake him up from a horrible dream, his long hair brushing across his deeply reddened cheeks. Ever since our mom and his dad had gotten married, I'd spent every moment of my life with him, which meant I was there for the good and the suckish. So I knew when he cried it would last forever and he would collapse onto the ground exactly five minutes after the tears began.

Not wanting to feel like a jerk and just watch him cry his eyes out, I went over to him, putting my arms around his sobbing form just as Arthur walked out of the room, his hair adorably ratted and looking completely exhausted, almost like how I felt. He gave me an astonished grimace, like hugging your brother was treason or something, looked a teensy bit jealous, but then wiped it off his face as fast as he possibly could, strutting by me and Mattie like he was all that and a big bag of French fries. Though I was trying to comfort my baby brother, I couldn't help but glance down as he went by, swaying his hips like he had some, his butt very distracting in his crumpled formal clothes.

"Coffee?" he mumbled in dismay, turning to look at me. "I despise coffee. Don't you have any tea?"

I chuckled, a deep throated noise that made Mattie look up at me. "Nope, princess. We don't drink tea. This here is AMERICA! And we are AMERICANS! So we drink coffee! Actually we just don't have any because tea is more expensive than coffee, so… sorry, dude."

Matthew made a whimpering noise and shoved his face into my t-shirt, tears stains spreading like wildfire. If we're comparing fire to water, that is. Which we aren't. So, yeah, my shirt was getting soaked and the sobs were starting to rack his body so much, we were both shaking. I patted his back, kinda starting to wish he'd shut up and go somewhere else to cry about his obnoxious boyfriend. I mean, seriously, the guy had been so loud and talkative! Who would ever wanna date a guy like THAT? Anyway, I wanted to be alone with Arthur, while I still had the chance. Without the musical and him conveniently forgetting his satchel, I'd have absolutely no reason to get in contact with him again. Except, of course, the fact that I wanted him and all, which was most likely not a good reason in his mind.

I checked over my shoulder to make absolutely sure he was still there, getting the result I wanted. He had poured himself some coffee and was holding one of our mugs with a handkerchief, grimacing as he brought the cup to his mouth. He sipped from it delicately, shuddered and looked nauseated, then put the cup down hastily, reaching for some more sugar and piling half of what we had in his cup until I could have sworn I saw white in his cup. Then he started the whole process over again.

"Matthew," I murmured in my softest, most lovable big bro voice, "I think you should go lay down for a little bit, okay?"

His face the mask of pure melancholy, he nodded and I helped him back into the room, putting him in the bed and leaving, shutting the door quietly and feeling guilty and sick when I heard him sob louder, more willing to open up when he thought he was all alone. I shoved my hands in my pockets and cantered up to Arthur, sitting at the table with him in the chair across. Absently, I stared out the big window that was one of the only good things about the tiny place where I lived. I could see the hustle and bustle of the city from here, could feel it send adrenaline through my veins, as it always did. With a sigh, I leaned my head onto one hand and turned to the Brit across the table.

Carefully avoiding eye contact by staring down at his slightly dusty mug, he asked, "So, what was all that about there? With the tears, I mean." He squirmed, seeming a little anxious as he played with the spoon that had been in the sugar.

"Gilbert got killed last night. We don't know who or how, but somebody killed him in between the time I came and picked my brother up from his house and this morning when I woke up. It's got Mattie really upset… I think he actually might have loved Gilbert, which was totally stupid, but I guess you can't really control how you feel about someone…"

As I spoke, my hand, with a mind of its own, had drifted closer and closer to his, which was lying lazily across the table, looking so innocent and just… there. I didn't fully see what I was doing until our hands had joined, willingly on both our parts. Surprised, I tried to meet his eyes, to have him acknowledge what he had done, but he hid his face from my view, looking away quickly. Ah, so he was going to be shy, was he? When he spoke next, I could almost tangibly hear the embarrassment and insecurity in his voice.

"G-Gilbert's dead too? But I barely even knew him… strange that they would go after him next."

Mind stimulated, I couldn't help the speech and debate part of myself that overtook me and I stood up, wrenching our hands apart as I pointed a finger at him. He looked up, finally meeting my gaze, seemingly confused and disappointed at our sudden "break up."

"That's just it, though!" I told him, excitedly pacing back and forth. "What if… well, what if it ISN'T your magicy friends? What if it really is… wait for it! Waaaaaaaaaiiiiittt… AN ACTUAL KILLER! DUN DUN DUN! That would throw of your ideas completely, but it would make more sense. I mean, why would your council go after someone you barely spoke to, if ever, and just murder him in cold blood? Something…. There's just something VERY suspicious about that! Hey, I'll even bet that it's somebody who was on the cast of the musical, somebody with a vendetta against us! It's a conundrum, it's blasphemy, it's…. it's…. A MYSTERY!"

For a minute, we just stared at each other, blinking.

After a few more seconds, the condescending man said, "You are a BLOODY IDIOT, Alfred."

"But come on! It could be true!" I whined, upset that after all that he just called me an idiot.

He looked a little reluctant to do it, but he nodded slightly in agreement. "Yes, it very well could be possible. After all, I don't look much like I did when I was a young lad. Maybe they don't recognize me… or they could have misjudged and killed someone who had "seemed" to know me well. Look, Alfred, they make mistakes too. Also, they could be subtly building their way up to killing my closest friends…" He froze, his face suddenly different. "I think I should be leaving now."

I froze in response to him. "Leave? Now? Why?"

"Every second I spend with you puts your life in danger, Alfred. I can't afford to let them see us together… especially so often!" He pulled his coat off the back of his chair, put it on, and started to chant something in a language I didn't know.

"But Arthur… Iggy… don't go yet!" I plead with him, struggling to get a positive reaction out of him. "Please! Hey, we could… um, we could try to solve the mystery together! Yeah, we could be just like REAL detectives, like how we were in the musical! Just don't go yet!" I reached out to pull on his sleeve, right as he began to dissipate into thin air.

The minute I touched him, the spell faded and he came back, no longer just an outline, but himself completely. The rebound of what he was doing kicked in when it failed, sending purple smoke everywhere and shooting us both backwards about three feet, slamming our unsuspecting bodies careening into the walls. I heard the Englishman cry out in pain through the fog that had coated the room and ran over to see if he was okay, not very hurt myself since I'd hit the couch. I found him painfully rubbing his back, still splayed on the floor, his formerly tucked in shirt shot out of his pants and the buttons opened, showing off his slim but well-built chest.

Wow, that magic was some good stuff!

I knelt down beside him, brushing off his hair, which was full of sparkling glitter that had come from, like, nowhere at all. His face was lightly flushed again and I almost couldn't take it anymore when he opened his eyes and tears of pain slid out, while he bit his lip to contain himself from screaming. That's when I realized something, as I gaze down into his effeminate expression that turned me on thoroughly. Something amazing.

You can't spell uke without UK. And, you can't spell seme without AMERICA! BOOYAH!

"Hey, you alright, dude?" I asked, getting really close to his face, not wanting to miss a singe thing about him while he was vulnerable.

For an answer, he coughed and looked slightly miserable, scowling as usual, but with more pain behind it. "Ugh…" he moaned, slipping down onto his back, his head somehow ending up right in my lap. "I can't see a bloody thing… damn it. And now it smells like vanilla…"

I blinked a couple of times before a broad grin stretched across my face. "What? My crotch smells like vanilla?"

"Yes… I like vanilla very much…" he muttered, his glance pupils dilated, and his irises darting back and forth, severely unfocused. He snuggled himself in closer to me, almost cuddling my lower half, his head rolling around where it was. "It's my favorite candle scent, actually!"

"By all means, smell that candle," I told him, running my hands through his hair.

"But I don't have enough money to buy it… if I smell it I'll want it!" he explained, frowning.

I gave him a poke on the nose. "Oh, you don't need money! It's a free sample, baby!"

His eyes widened and a huge smile crossed his face, making him look so adorable, I almost had a heart attack. "Really? It's free? Well, then I guess it doesn't hurt to have a little whiff." He pressed his head in deeper and inhaled deeply. Contentedly, he sighed, his eyes looking warm and his expression hospitable. I'd never seen him look so completely relaxed and off his guard…

Making a move would be the smartest thing ever right now.

"Y'know, I have plenty of other samples for you, actually. All free, I might add. And, because it's you, I'll throw in something to taste…" I leaned down, taking his head between my hands and drawing his face up to mine, pressing my lips hungrily against his, which had already been parted since he had been about to speak.

He moaned quietly as I let my tongue explore the inside of his mouth, until he broke off, gasping and muttering, "That tastes good…" and then shutting up again to let me give him some more of my little "sample."

He must've hit his head pretty hard to be letting me do this.

Feeling confident that he wouldn't object to it, I put my hand inside his shirt, rubbing his bare stomach, getting a feel for his body and making him shiver with pleasure. With another moan from him, I pressed on, eager to go as far as I could before something messed this up. Just as I pushed him down again and had been about to… I dunno, do something else, I heard a door crack open and looked up to see the smoke had cleared and a red-eyed, timid Canadian was staring at us, face the pinnacle of surprise. In his hand he was dragging along his teddy bear, who looked like he really needed to be cleaned.

"Uhm! I was just… I wanted some water…" he explained, reddening and turning to go back to the bedroom.

Unsure what to do, I stood up, pulling Arthur up along with me, who looked dazed and confused, his pupils still massive. "I'd like some water too, please…" he told me.

"Mattie, you can come back!" I called, and then added quietly, "Not like we could do anything interesting with you here anyways…"

My brother spun around quickly, hurrying into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it up with the tap. I grabbed two more glasses and did the same, handing one to the swaying British man and keeping one for myself, chugging it as fast as I could, timing it with the clock on the wall. When it was gone, I slammed it onto the counter triumphantly.

"BOOYAH! 15 seconds BABY!" I hollered, making both other men flinch.

Arthur groaned in pain, holding his head, the enlarged pupils shrinking every second. "Oh God, my head is killing me… the spell must've backfired or something. Ugh, why do I have weird memories of the smell of vanilla?"

Dang it! He was back to normal! But he still remembered the vanilla!

"Why, I do not know!" I said conspicuously.

He narrowed his eyes at me, still rubbing his skull. "You bastard! You were the one who made my spell screw up! If you hadn't touched me, none of this would have happened! What the bloody hell did you DO to me while I was out of it?"

I put my hands up in defense. "Hey now, hey now! I didn't do ANYTHING! It was YOU who did something, Vanilla Boy!"

He looked utterly astonished at my statement, as if he actually believed me for once. "What did I DO?"

I chuckled, taking note of how my brother, who had been studiously ignoring us, leaned in to hear what I had to say to this question. "Well, you slid off the wall and your head ended up in my lap. You told me that my crotch smelled like vanilla and then sniffed it a couple times!"

"First of all, you bloody uphill gardener, it is SMELT not SMELLED! Second of all, you must be lying, since I would never do something so completely un-gentleman like, even if due to the aftereffects of failed magic spells!" He looked indignant and very faintly embarrassed.

"What the crap is an "uphill gardener?" I asked, more distracted by his Britishy words than by the fact he was insulting me.

With a roll of his eyes and a scoff, he explained, "It means gay! God, don't you know anything?"

"Not about British stuff, since I'm not!" I said cheerfully. "So uphill gardener? Where does that even come from? Like, what does it mean by "uphill?"

With a frustrated groan, he ran a hand through his hair, patience with me now nonexistent. "It means buttsex, you ignorant git! God, why are you so stupid?"

With a small frown, I asked, "How was I supposed to know what you meant when you started talking about hills and people who plant flowers? It's just confusing! I mean, why can't you just say what you mean instead of fluffing it up with other words?"

"Don't act like you never do that in America! I mean, you say things like "getting it on" and "doing the horizontal tango" in the place of the word sex! Everybody in every language does that exact same thing! So I don't want to hear that from you!" Angrily, he poked me in the stomach.

Surprising both of us, I giggled. I hadn't realized I was still ticklish. Or maybe it was the "horizontal tango" thing, I couldn't really tell. Either way, I burst into laughter, while he put his hands on his hips and glared menacingly.

"What?" he asked me indignantly, a dark scowl across his face.

Somehow, his reaction made me laugh harder, pointing at him while I had my uncontrollable fit of hilarity. I watched Matthew smirk out of the corner of my eye and laughed even more, losing it completely. Soon, both other men were laughing with me as my contagious chuckling spread to them like the plague, filling the empty room with the sounds of happiness. It was only when another person, one that hadn't been there before, started laughing with the three of us that I stopped, my insides leaping in terror as I turned, to see two smiling blue eyes right in my own.

"What is it that we laugh about?" asked Francis.

I couldn't help it, and apparently, neither could Matthew and Arthur. We all screamed in unison, panic tangible in the air.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Arthur shrieked as we all stumbled back a few steps.

"DUDE, WHY THE CRUD ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?" I yelled, almost at the same time as Arthur spoke.

Matthew just cried out, pulling his bear closer into his lap and trembling in terror.

The Frenchman's face grimed and he pulled a delicate red rose out of air, saying, "Ah, I had heard the news about Gilbert's tragic death and I knew he was, how you say, very CLOSE to young Matthew! I just wanted to be there for him and let him know he had a very sexy shoulder to cry on, if he should ever need it." He dropped a wink in the blushing Canadian's direction and blew him a kiss, rose petals blowing in the breeze and making the world shimmer and sparkle.

Suddenly, I found myself wondering if this ninja pervert possibly could just been destroying the competition…


	8. Boyfriend or Baby Brother?

"Okay… so remind me how you got into my house again, dude? I mean, I keep trying to listen but your face just distracts me from the words your saying and I get lost and confused." I asked Francis to repeat himself for the umpteenth time, really spacing out every time he spoke.

With an aggravated hair flip, he gave me a glare truly befitting of a homosexual French guy. "That is because I am so beautiful, non?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no. I mean, it's more like the fact that you're dressed in the weirdest (and crappiest) ninja costume I've ever seen! And Halloween, just FYI, is about a month away, so it's not time to bring out the catsuits just yet."

Both Arthur and Matthew had remained silent since the moment this guy had shown up in my house out of the blue, offering my little brother a shoulder to cry on. Matthew's teddy bear was pulled up on his lap and he was hiding his face from the view of us all, being all timid and shy as usual, more than obviously not wanting any comfort. Arthur had the normal scowl plastered onto his face and was sitting in the chair, his legs crossed, sipping at the coffee he hated so much (we had all gotten a new cup to sit down and talk) and trying to look dignified and fancy, sticking up his pinkie finger as he sipped. I wanted to laugh, but he probably would have strangled me. Plus I was finding out why random Frenchies were just popping up out of thin air.

"I know that it is not Halloween. I came here to comfort little Matthew, just as I have said earlier. Also, I walked in the unlocked, slightly askew front door." He turned from me, his predatory blue eyes turning on my brother's hiding figure. "_Excusez-moi, _Matthew. _Tu parle francias, oui?"_

I thought I saw my brother trembling slightly as he looked up, face a deep scarlet, his glasses crooked, and nodded, signaling that he did, in fact, speak French. Which was something I had never known about him until this moment… well this sucked! Now how was I going to know what they were saying? I glanced quickly over at Arthur, like he was going to be able to help, but all I saw was a sullen, pissed off Brit who didn't look like he gave a flying monkey whether they spoke French or not.

Francis smiled pleasantly and winked at Matthew a second time. "_Alors que diriez-vous avons-nous un entretien?"_

With another hesitant nod, Francis began to go off on some kind of tangent thing that I caught a few words of, due to my French classes in high school. The first thing I understood was the word for death, _la mort._ My assumptions were confirmed when I saw the dismal, despairing look that came into the Canadian's eyes. He nodded, a pathetic, half-attempt at a real nod, and mumbled something that I didn't get anything out of. When Francis spoke, it was like lightning fast and really hard to understand, but again, as he spoke, I understood one thing. _Bien, _or good. So death and… good? While I was pondering this, my ears happened to kick in the moment when the word finally came out of Francis's mouth that I had almost been sure would be coming, since he showed up to our house in a catsuit ninja costume and all.

_L'amour. _The word for love.

Due to Matthew's reaction of utter shock and disbelief, I knew I'd pretty much guessed right. Francis was in "love" with my adorable brother. Yeah, yeah, Gilbert had been in "love" with him too, when really, all he'd wanted was another unsuspecting, innocent guy to have sex with. I suspected that Francis was either the same exact way, or he was even worse. Like, he would do him forcibly and then just walk away and pretend like it never happened. I was about to intervene on their _conversation en la francais _or whatever, but then Mattie shook his head and uttered a sentence I was fairly positive I understood. Due to the fact it was pretty clear.

_"N-non…_" he muttered hesitantly. "_Je ne vous aime pas."_

"YEAH! POWER TO THE PEOPLE!" I shrieked, unable to hold it in, causing Arthur to freak and spill his scalding drink onto himself and Matthew to gasp, his arm swinging out involuntarily and knocking his cup to the floor, where it shattered into millions of pieces.

For a moment it was dead silent.

Then, being who he was, Mattie shot up out of his chair, mumbling something like sorry a gazillion times and nearly stepping right onto a massive glass shard before Francis, like an actual ninja, flew in out of nowhere and swept my brother into his arms, gracefully stepping around all the pieces and planting a confused Matthew onto the floor, all with a big red rose in his mouth, which he handed to him after he had been saved. Obviously shaken, he took it, looking seriously bewildered. Taking advantage of his moment, clearly, Francis planted a fat, smooth kiss onto the smaller blonde's cheek.

Under his breath, the Frenchman whispered, taking a piece of my brother's hair in his fingers and curling it a little, "You may not now… but you will in good time,_ mon __beau garcon._ Please, come with me tonight and I will let you know how much I mean the words I am saying to you." With a cock of his head, he stuck out his hand, willing Matthew to take it so that they could spend the night together.

I couldn't believe this.

I exploded. "DUDE! Are you SERIOUS? He just spent the night at a guy's house last night and that guy ended up DEAD! He's traumatized and you're asking him to SLEEP WITH YOU? What kind of asshole does that? I don't know if you've realized, but he already told you he doesn't love you! He DID love Gilbert!"

"But Gilbert did not love him," was the Frenchie's answer. "And I do. It is as simple as that; I will not do anything to your brother that he does not want done to him in the first place."

Apparently, that somehow struck a nerve for Arthur and he finally intervened. "Is that what you say to every man that you happen to be about to deflower, you bastard? That you LOVE THEM? Well, you bloody wanker, then you loved ME once too, didn't you! In the end, all you really wanted from me was what you want from him, and I can't just sit idly by while you rip another man's virginity from him like… like taking a grape from a BLOODY VINE! You just took what you wanted and left my heart shattered and my ass in pain! I won't let that happen to another person right before my eyes because I'm better than you are, you fucking NANCY!

"I'll show you who you're screwing with, you bastard! I'll show you just who exactly it is you're messing with if you do anything to that boy that he doesn't want from you! And, oh, I have a little message for you, just so you know…. I don't need your half-assed love anymore! Ever again, actually, because for the first time in my life, I know what REAL love feels like and I'm sick and tired of acting like I didn't feel it the first day we met! When he asked me out to dinner that night and kissed me like he'd known me his whole life! When I'd left my bag in the theatre and he'd brought it to me, actually come INTO my house to give it to me! I can't pretend for forever and I already know how he feels about me…"

I was so caught up in the emotion of the moment, I almost forgot to register that it was ME who'd done all those things for him. I almost didn't realize he was confessing his feelings for ME.

"I love this bloody idiot right here, Alfred Jones! Sure, he may be totally stupid almost all the time and he may have a hamburger fetish that is seriously disgusting and he may be a bit of a git the majority of the time, but I LOVE HIM. And that's something that will never change. So, due to the fact that that man is the brother of the man I love, you will NOT be taking him with you, unless he wants you to."

Again, the room was completely silent, except for the panting of the red-faced British man who was staring at Francis like the devil was in the room.

"If you remember correctly," Francis annunciated each syllable slowly, "YOU were the one who came to ME. Every time. Not that I can blame you, I AM _magnifique."_

"Go to hell, you bloody wanker! The first time I was just confused!" he growled. "The rest was all your fault because you seduced me!"

My eyes widened in surprise. "The… first time?" I asked. I was positive he told me there had only been ONE time….

A mischievous smile played its way across the mouth of the long haired blond man and he batted his eyes innocently while he asked, his French accent slurring his words strangely, "Ohohoho…? Did you not TELL him that we'd dated before?"

Arthur's eyes met mine, completely stricken. I felt my heart pang painfully inside my chest just watching him panic like a trapped rat. He was being bullied. But how could I help him when he lied to me like that? I mean, that was a serious thing! But just seeing the guilt plain on his face when he saw how distrusting I looked… it hurt. A lot. He was hurting, and as his love, I had to do something about it.

"No… I didn't tell him that…" More confidence building in his eyes, he looked over at Francis again. "No, I did NOT tell him that, because that is an absolute LIE! We have never dated before! And believe me, we never will."

With an indifferent shrug, the cocky Frenchman said, "You are right in that we have never dated. But we've had sex many, many times, _non?_ And whether I seduced or did not, I waited for your consent every time it happened. Therefore, I am doing nothing of what you accuse me of and I would like to hear what Matthew has to say on this subject instead of listening to your babble, limey."

Involuntarily, we all turned to Matthew, who had been quietly sitting this one out until Francis had yanked him forcibly in. I saw him shrink back from my annoyed glare, Arthur's murderous one, and Francis's freaky-a "calm," persuasive stare. The bear in his grip was squeezed tighter as he looked from face to face, the tension obvious in the way he tensed, reddening further.

"I…I…" He looked like he was about to burst into tears again. "I…I just want Gilbert back…" Wearily, he wiped at his eyes, looked at us all exhaustedly and walked out of the apartment, his formerly taught shoulders now drooping with defeat.

With a frustrated grunt, Arthur hissed, "Look what you've done now, you frog! You've made him cry again. I swear, you're such a-"

But he never got to finish his sentence.

There was a shriek, one that sounded a lot like my brother when he was really scared, a small sob of terror, and then silence. I was the first to react, not pausing to out on a coat or my shoes as I took off outside to where I knew he would be standing, just outside the door. When I got there, I froze up with horrified disbelief.

Instead of my brother being scared by a shadow or something stupid like that, like I had been hoping, I found a message. Written in bright red, fresh blood on the wall just outside the door.

_Like a lamb to the slaughter…_

What… what could I do? What did you do when you're eighteen-year-old brother just got kidnapped and you found blood writing on your wall? I felt nauseated and for the first time, throughout seeing the body and finding out Gilbert had died within minutes of us being there, I thought I was going to throw up or cry. Then Arthur and Francis came, I knew somewhere in my mind that they came, but it seemed like my world was about to come falling down around me. Way too fast. My legs gave out underneath me and I almost fell, but two pairs of strong arms held me up, talking to me, though the words just didn't seem to make sense.

I knew one thing was true. I was going to find my brother. RIGHT. NOW. I wasn't going to call the cops and have to wait 24 hours for them to do something. No, by then Matthew could be dead! For all I knew, he could already be dead and this could be… I had to find out if this was his blood. Abruptly, I shoved both of the confused guys off of me, walked inside robotically, and started searching for some of the props that we'd been allowed to take home with us one night for practice. I tore the bedroom apart, finally finding it under the bed, tucked away neatly under a pile of dirty clothes. Yes, this was the one! It was a real detective's case, I remembered that Elizaveta had said so. So obviously… it had to have those instant DNA swabs that would tell you who the DNA had belonged to.

I ran outside, eager and terrified, knowing already what the swab would say to me, but unable to help myself from testing it. This was a step to finding where he was. Working fast, I swiped the cotton across the bloody letters, swabbing it until it was nearly dripping with liquid and then I stuck it into the little machine and waited… a minute later, a very old picture of my brother was staring back at me, that timid smile at his lips and his eyes bright with life. I stared at that picture, holding the thing until my hands started to hurt.

"Alfred…" a soft voice murmured.

Soft I hadn't been expecting from Arthur ever, but there he was, looking at me with that stereotypical tenderness that lovers looked at each other with, holding out a hand for me to take, which I did gratefully. Anxious, I pulled him in for a hug, which he returned after only slight hesitation, muttering something to me that I couldn't understand.

"We've called the cops…"

I heard that. "What? What did they say?"

He seemed taken aback by my sudden interest, but not curious enough to ask, saying, "As you know, someone has to be gone 24 hours before they can do anything… but they've agreed to keep an eye out and put it on the news. Don't worry; we'll find him soon."

"Damn straight, we will."

"Um, excuse me?"

"I said, damn straight we will. I'm going to find him, Arthur, whether you help me to or not." My voice was firm and my jaw was set. He knew better than to argue with that.

Giving in, he nodded. "Okay, okay. Yes, I will help you. It'll be just like the musical… except this time, it's your brother instead of my bar tender mate… that's kind of weird. But Alfred, please, it's really cold and awful out tonight, maybe we should wait until…"

"UNTIL WHAT?" I yelled, not meaning to. "Sorry… until what? Until he's DEAD? Look, Arthur, I'm not going to let a little bad weather get in my way. After all, if I did, what kind of hero would I be?"

"Uhm, the kind who doesn't enjoy frostbite?"

I gave him my bravest smile and took his hand in mine. We went back inside the apartment where I threw on my jacket and some boots, plus my gloves and then I practically shoved him into some of my warm clothes and pulled him out of the building and into the ice-coated terrain and howling bitterly cold wind that struck my face like 10,000 needles stabbing me. I heard Arthur groan beside me as he went through the same beating I did. It occurred to me that maybe he wasn't as strong as I was, due to his size and all, so I pulled him closer to me and we shoved out way through snow and into the car, where I cranked up the heat hurriedly.

When I turned to the man next to me, I saw that his face was bluish and he was shivering violently, the only jacket that hadn't been too big on him slightly thinner than the rest. "Wh-wh-wh-where are we g-g-g-going?" he stuttered, pressing closer to my heater.

It was then that I saw that I had a huge decision to make. One of the hardest I would probably ever have to in my whole entire life. As I watched him shiver and shake like we were lying naked on the glaciers in Antarctica sunbathing, I realized that he couldn't do this. He couldn't take this. I would have to either go alone or not go at all, because risking this precious life was more than I was about to do… Now, I was going have to choose between saving my brother's life and having to watch Arthur freezing to death. Get pneumonia. Maybe even die, all just because I'd selfishly told him that we had to save my brother. Just the thought of never seeing him again filled me with pain and grief. But so did the thought of never seeing Matthew again.

Boyfriend or baby brother?

The choice, in the end, was a surprisingly easy one to make.

With barely any hesitation, I didn't answer his question, just got out of the car, went to his side, pulled him out, and brought him back into the house, back where I knew he would be safe.

Or…safer.

Somewhere out there, I knew that Matthew needed me badly. He was crying for me to come and help him. But what could I do when I had two precious lives at stake? What could I do when I could only save one? 


	9. Sex Veteran

The second we were in the house, I forced him into warm clothes, while he characteristically protested about leaving Matthew. But I couldn't focus on that… If I thought about it, it made me feel like an asshole with sprinkles of douche on the top. So I just shoved layers upon layers of jackets on Arthur while he grumbled and swatted at me, trying to take them all off. Since Francis hadn't made any comments yet, I had assumed he'd left to go try and find his "love" or whatever, but evidently, I didn't care where he went, as long as he wasn't breaking and entering into my apartment! Freaking maniac…

Out of nowhere, a sudden thought crossed my mind and I paused for a second in my frantic… jacketing.

"Arthur? Why didn't we just, like, use a spell to poof us to where Mattie was?" I asked.

He looked annoyed, taking advantage of my pause to rip a few layers off. "It's simple, really. I have been restricted from magic for 24 hours due to my spell failure. Which, might I remind you, was your fault in the first place, you bastard. So I can't help and if I could have, I would have suggested it way before your turtle brain thought it up!"

I stared at him a moment as my turtle brain thought up something else of an entirely different subject. "Which reminds me… so you love me? Like, for real? Or were you just saying that… hey! You said you only did it with him one time, you liar! What was that humungo rant about how he seduced you and you dated or whatever…?"

His delicate pale skin flushed a darker pink, most likely cold and embarrassment combining. As he ripped off another few jackets, he mumbled, "Look, I…I'll admit that I fibbed. But I just didn't want to tell you… because I thought it might change your opinion of me. That's something I don't want."

"So… you wanna have my babies?"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" he yelled, throwing his latest jacket removal at me while I ducked and laughed as it flew over my head. "You…!" He took a deep breath, regaining his gentlemanly composure and elegantly stripped himself of another coat. "You are so immature and no, I do NOT because I don't have babies. That would require things that I shall never acquire."

Walking over to him and unconsciously helping him take off his coats, I chuckled. "You mean to say you got a P but you need a V?"

"Yes, that would be-" He froze. "No I do NOT need one! Well, I'd need one if I wanted children, but personally, I find them to be severely rude and smelly little buggers. In fact, they remind me quite a lot of you. And I can remove my own clothing, thank you," he added, eyeing me reproachfully.

"Remove all the clothing you like," I muttered, trying to say it to myself, but I guess I was a bit too close, because he heard me.

Instantly, his face was blazing and he ceased his movements, pausing to stare at me in horror. "I would like to only remove the bloody jackets that you piled onto me when we walked in! I feel like a very large marshmallow burning over a fire at the moment. Ugh I swear, if I possibly could never shiver around you again, I wouldn't because you'd go mental every single time and start shoving me in the most ridiculous and tasteless crap you can find, so long as I stop shiv-"

I wasn't sure what was going through my head really. Simple words, mostly, as he spoke. Things like "kiss" repeatedly and "he looks so sexy when's he's… doing anything." But his ranting was really sexy and I wanted to listen, I really did, it was just that his lips were even sexier, moving the way they did to form his words as he pulled off clothes until he got to his own dressy stuff that he'd been wearing when I brought him home yesterday. It was hard to imagine it had only been a day… but he'd said he loved me, and what had I done? Gawked. Hadn't said that I loved him too or kissed him or anything! But I would make up for it now, plus it would get my mind off of Matthew for awhile.

I took his face as he spoke and kissed him lightly across the mouth, opening my eyes to take in his expression. He looked completely out of it, like my lips were some kind of drug for him that made everything all unclear and hazy. Maybe this could work in my favor… I put more pressure into it, allowing him to kiss back, if that was what he wanted. And it apparently was, because he kissed me almost more fiercely than I did him and wrapped his arms around my neck in a very feminine fashion. Almost like he was used to it. Oh wait… he was. I felt suddenly older now, glad that I was the one leading this little fiasco and not him, because if it were opposite, I would feel like a total loser.

Having him submit to me and having the power to shut him up was kind of cool, even though that was a little wrong. But how many people could do this, really? Make him so… vulnerable to everything. The deeper I made the kiss go, the more I wondered if he would follow, but he did, holding onto me tighter with every second.

So he really had wanted me then.

The longer we made out, the more I began to mind panic. I mean, yeah, as the guy, I was supposed to be all sure and lead. Thing was… well, I was a virgin. Kissing I could manage, but I was pretty sure that after awhile of kissing, you were supposed to, like… But I didn't know what to do and nothing ever prepared you for things like this. As I pulled away, nervous, I saw the look on his face and immediately I thought of all the totally kinky stuff that had been in his room. His look reminded me that he knew what he was doing and though I may fake it, he was the leader here. He'd been through this before like some kind of… of…

SEX VETERAN!

Suddenly, the thought gave me a lot more courage and, with him there to help and tell me what to do, I happily finished what I had started, murmuring in his ear, "I love you too…"

Not once in my life had I ever been as happy as I was laying next to him all that night; not when I'd gotten a Playstation for Christmas that one year, not when the ice cream man had announced he had a special awesome new flavor for me to try (though hadn't turned out quite the way I had expected), not even when McDonald's made a new kind of burger for cheaper than the other ones. Yeah, this was way better than that, allowing myself to stroke his soft hair without him recoiling or yelling some snobby British guy insult at me. Of course, that was probably due to the fact that I had knocked him unconscious with my powerful butt blows of lurve, so he was quietly mumbling in his sleep. It was about 11 a.m., sure, but he deserved his beauty sleep.

And I would have given it to him, if my phone hadn't started blaring, annoyingly loud, right in his ear. Somehow, that's where my cell had ended up in the midst of our intimacy, and it didn't help that I had to climb over him so that I could answer it, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"Wassup?" I asked, flipping it open.

It was a man on the other end, his voice faintly familiar as he spoke. "You'll regret everything… Matthew won't be spared much longer. You know what you need to do…"

The line went dead as I stared on in horror.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes groggily, I could tell Arthur was about to complain, but then he stopped, his eyes widening in alarm as I sat, frozen, my own eyes massively wide. My thoughts were fuzzy as everything from the past day came flooding back after the most amazing night of my life, causing me to drop the phone. Mattie… this guy had Mattie… my head turned instinctively to judge how deep the snow was outside, which was way too deep for cars. My heart sank and I closed my eyes, feeling more than marginally hopeless. He still needed me and I still could do nothing. I tried to hold back the flood of despairing images that stampeded through my thoughts, but they were just that; a stampede. There was nothing that could contain the pictures of my brother, tied up and bleeding, dying…a strange one of his body being coated in syrup.

"The play," Arthur said out of nowhere, breaking me from the moment-ruining mental images.

"What?" I asked, taken aback. I was supposed to be the random one, not him!

An excited look brought his facial features to life as he explained animatedly, "It's just like in the bloody play! Don't you see, Alfred? It all makes perfect sense! So this man is obviously someone who knows the musical and the cast in it… that brings the suspects down to anyone not dead already, which is quite a few. We already know the two of us aren't it, though that WAS the shock of the musical. But how could you possibly be the one since you just were called by the murderer?"

"Wait." I put up a hand to stop him, my, mind working faster than usual. "How did you know that it was a man? And that I had just been called by the murderer?"

Ignoring my newfound suspicions, he said, "Don't be stupid. It could be a man or a woman. But I knew you just got called by him because of the look on your face… so, obviously, what we have to do is what I believe you said before. We must play detective! Alright, I say we start by making a list of the cast members first and seek their alibis on the nights of the murderers and kidnapping!"

I eyed him curiously. "You're awful hyper for someone who just got… gardened uphill."

He flushed lightly, but tried to cover it up by pulling a notebook and pencil out of his butt. Like, literally, I had no idea where they came from, but they were just…THERE! He began to pencil down every person, not bothering to include what characters they played, probably assuming that information was irrelevant, though my gut told me otherwise. I thought of saying something, but decided maybe it wasn't all that important and that he'd look at me weird.

"Okay, so we have you, me, Francis, Matthew, Antonio, Lovino, Tino, Berwald, Kiku, Heracles, um… oh, Ivan, whom I suspect, Yao, Vash, Ludwig, Eduard, Raivis, Toris, Feliks, whom is my second suspicion, Sadiq, Yong Soo, Elizaveta, and Feliciano. Not to mention Nickolai, Eirik, Matthias, Fagan and Blaine. You know, the stage crew. They have to be included too. Really, it's astonishing that there are absolutely no women in this play!" he gasped, as if just realizing it.

"Dude, Elizaveta wrote it."

"Ah. Yes, that would explain that. So we have to find all these people and secure their innocence. Where shall we begin?"

I considered his question, eyeing the list. "I think we should do it in a very well thought-out and strategic manner… eenie meanie miney mo, catch a tiger by the toe, if he hollers let him go, my mother told me to pick the very best one and you are not IT!" My finger was pointing right at the name of the guy I had kinda been praying it wouldn't land on.

Ivan.

We both looked at each other, looked down at my traitor finger, then back each other again.

"D-do you think that maybe… we could just skip it and say he didn't do it? That dude is like 10 foot 10 and 4,000 pounds! That's like, two elephants!" I tried not to let just how terrified I was of him slip into my voice, but I knew it didn't matter.

Laughing in that weird, awkward way, Arthur said, "Haha, what, are you scared? I thought you were the "hero", or has that recently turned into the "coward" instead?"

Disgruntled, I crossed my arms and turned my back, muttering, "A true hero know when he's not gonna win and dude, we are SO not gonna win."

Exasperated, he threw his arms up and growled, "We aren't going to FIGHT him, Alfred! That isn't the point! We are just going to ask what he was doing on the murder night, confirm his alibi, and leave as fast as we can, okay? Now let's get going."

He started to get up, but a weird expression crossed his face and his hand went instinctively to his sore spot. Noticing me watching, he took his hand away, coughed, and attempted to try and walk normally. He kinda looked like a rubber chicken doing the Macarena. If ya know what I mean! Either way, he was trying to fake me out and was failing miserably. I decided that it would be sufficient, now that he had kind of made a fool of himself, to point out something.

"You know… we can't really do anything until your magic powers come back. It's like Santa's house out there. My poor Mustang must be suffocating in all that white stuff!" I cried, genuinely worried.

But Arthur just snorted. "Perv."

And now I was confused.

"Wh-what? Why am I a perv for loving my car? I don't like DO the car or anything, if that's what you're thinking!" I shouted, surprised.

And now HE was confused.

"Oh for God's sake, let's just walk or something! Nevermind you and your car, okay? We'll walk to Ivan's house, though I haven't the foggiest where it is. In that case, first we need to talk to Elizaveta, because she obviously has the records and such. She'll know just where he lives."

Obeying orders, my brain hurting, I picked up my phone and searched through my history, finding her number and calling it, strumming my fingers on the table and waiting for an answer. After what felt like forever, a breathless voice asked, panting, "H-Hello? Alfred?"

"Yeah, it's me. Hey, we have a question for y-"

"Number 865 Silver Ridge Apartment complex! His home number is 879-0563 and his cell number is 261-9728! He's home right now, but Yao is over and I swear if you… Nevermind! Bye!"

For the second time today, I was hung up on rudely.

Instead of a look of horror though, there was one of shock across my face.

"She… hung up. Like, just told me where he lived without me asking, and hung up…"

His brow wrinkled up in concern, but he shook his head and asked, "Well did you get the address? Because that's really all that matters here."

I nodded, telling him the address and numbers. I was surprised that I had such a photographic memory, when I bothered to try. Maybe I could have been a straight A student after all! Or maybe this was just important to me because it involved Matthew. Yeah, that was definitely it. Either way, Silver Ridge was the complex next to mine, so walking there wouldn't be very hard to do, as long as we bundled up like Eskimos! I always wanted to be an Eskimo…!

We both put on every piece of clothing we could find, Arthur taking only what he considered "tasteful", while I slung every piece of anything onto me, just caring that I could get there and back without freezing to death. When we were both ready, I held the door open for him, and we headed out into the icy mid-morning day. The walk felt longer than it probably was, but we eventually made it and entered through the front door, stripping and shaking off our boots. We decided that the rickety old elevator probably would break down and the cord would snap, plummeting the two of us to our dooms if we stepped on it, so we took the stairs, heading up the eighth floor. It didn't take too long to find his apartment, especially since the door was coated in all kinds of… sunflowers… it was nice and creepy, all at the same time, which was Ivan's personality, summed up thoroughly. It was like he SEEMED nice, but was… so very, very creepy. As we approached the door, a weird _kolkolkol_ noise emanated from nowhere.

Arthur and I shared a look before I raised a shaking hand and knocked hesitantly, trying to avoid flower smooshing. Suddenly, the noise stopped, followed by complete silence, and then the slow opening of the door in front of us. We stared in terror as something so vile, so absolutely horrible, so utterly and completely nauseating….! Okay, actually, it was just a little kid, but you get my drift. He stared up at us with reproachful blue eyes and messy brown hair, obviously curious.

Then I realized this wasn't a little kid or something icky or even a scary Russian dude with a vodka, sunflower, and Yao obsession. This was, weirdly enough, Raivis. Before I could ask what he was doing in Ivan's house and start questioning him about where he was on the night of last Friday's Tuesday, the man himself walked up, smiling with all out friendliness.

"Welcome to my home," he said, his accent thick and warping his words. "Please, won't you be coming in? I had heard that you would be visiting and I have prepared a little snack for you."

Even before we took one step in, I knew, despite our original purpose, that we were so totally freaking screwed.


	10. Tinsel Under Our Asses

**Reviews make me smile... and I could really use a good grin... Pretty please with sugar on top? *Hopeful shiny eyes***

Awkwardly, both Arthur and I entered, sitting on his couch and staring timidly as Toris, clad in a frilly apron, placed some super weird-looking snacks on the table in front of us. Quickly flitting his eyes over to be sure Ivan wasn't looking, he made some weird hand gestures toward the food and then acted like he was dying, stopping when the Russian man turned to look at us, clueless smile on his face. He came over and sat on the sofa opposite the two of us and I felt my heartbeat speed up slightly. There was something wrong about this dude…

"So you are coming to ask me if I killed Roderick and Gilbert and took Matthew?"

"U-uh…" My voice faltered. I cleared my throat, determined to press on, for my brother. "Yeah, that's right! I'm Detective Jones and he's Detective Kirkland! Now, we need to ask you a few questions, so sit down and answer only when you're spoke to!"

Arthur cleared his throat and muttered, "Spoken, you git."

I ignored him, determined not to let him throw me off my groove. I eyed my questionee closely, trying to ignore his creepy perma-smile and asked him abruptly, "So where were YOU when these men were killed?"

He opened his mouth to speak.

"OBJECTION!" I shrieked. "You were NOT! Hope you're feeling the pressure, you murderer!"

He gave me a confused but still happy grin. "But I did not get to—"

"LIES!"

"Oh my Lord, you are a total wanker!" Arthur yelled, pushing me aside and standing up to take charge. I tried not to giggle at how he got up slowly and carefully.

Yeah. That belonged to ME.

"What my stupid partner means to ask is where you were when Roderick was first murdered a few days back."

He put a finger to his mouth, looking adorable when he cocked his head and said, "Well, I was probably out with my sisters, because they took me to see play that day."

Arthur looked a little doubtful. "About what time was that at?"

"It took all day just to find the place. We walked for very long time."

"And what play was it that you went to see? What was the name of the theatre? May I see your playbill?"

Ivan nodded, standing up and searching through a drawer while he answered Arthur's first questions. "It was the play Avenue Q, in… ah… the Golden Theater! Da, that was it. Here we are!" He came back over to where we were sitting, handed Arthur the ticket and playbill, and sat down, crossing his legs.

For a moment, the Brit studied the items, matching up the times and dates of everything. "Perfect," he said, handing the stuff back. "Now, what about when Gilbert was murdered?"

Again, the Russian man thought and then said, "I was here at home, cozying up with my boyfriend, Yao. I did not go anywhere else or see anyone else. And today, I have been home because it is very snowy outside." Purple eyes gleaming, he looked down at the food on the table. "Did you not want to try my Russian Tea Cakes? Is okay, there is more for me." With that, he scooped up one of the cookies and put it in his mouth.

Arthur looked slightly more interested in the food now that the word "tea" had been mentioned. "That's what those are? Tea cakes?" He shook himself. "Anyways, all we need is to confirm your alibi by calling your sisters and Yao…"

Ivan smiled, his teeth whitely glimmering in the dull lighting of the room. "We do not need to call Yao, he is already here! As for my sisters, my little one is already here also, hiding somewhere where she thinks I cannot see her!"

At that, a smaller, girlier version of Ivan stepped out of the shadows, her face set in a scowl, followed by the Chinese dude had been in the play with us. He seemed a little confused, like he had somehow not heard this whole conversation and had just happened to step out right at the moment he was supposed to.

"What are all these people doing here, aru?" he asked Ivan, sitting down hesitantly next to him.

Ivan answered by pulling him closer and saying, "They are here to find out my alibi on the nights of the murders of Roderick and Gilbert, from the play. Also, I have heard that Alfred's brother has gone missing as well. Natalia, will you tell these nice men where we were when Roderick was killed?"

Natalia, who had remained quiet until now, looked at her brother a smidgen psychotically. "We were at the play Avenue Q with our big sister."

Arthur nodded, writing this all down in the notebook from before. Suddenly, his pen froze as he started to scratch out Ivan's name. "Wait a minute. I can't put you off as "not guilty" because one of your alibis is also a suspect! Well, since we're here, I might as well kill two birds with one stone."

My eyes widened in horror. "Bird killer!"

He turned on me, eyes narrowed. "Since you're such a bloody imbecile, it would do you good to just shut your mouth for the rest of this interrogation. Maybe if you're good and act like a mature adult, I'll let you have the next one! But until you stop acting like a fidgety two-year-old with a full nappy, that time will not come!"

I pulled a burger out of my coat, munching on it and ignoring his strange insults. "Jeez, SOMEBODY woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning! And I would know, 'cause I was there! Oooh, what NOW?"

He facepalmed, reddening from the release of information that I had been there when he woke up. Anxiously, he turned back to his detective work, only to find both Ivan and Yao with large, creep-tastic smiles on their faces. It was hard to tell from behind, but it looked like he did a double take. "Wh-what?" he asked, the pitch of his voice rising with his nervousness.

"Nothing~" the two of them said in unison.

Putting his hands on his hips, he started muttering something that involved "wankers" and everyone in the room but himself. Clearing his throat, he pushed on, though he had many obstacles in his way, including the ridiculous looks he was now getting from the two opposite of us. "Now that THAT'S done, Yao, where were YOU?"

He didn't even have to pause to think before he said, "I was in China, visiting my parents. I returned the day that Gilbert was killed and was with Ivan all that day. You can call to confirm my alibi, though it will do you no good unless you speak Chinese, aru. Or, I can give you my plane ticket!" Yao started rummaging through his sleeves and came up with one plane ticket, handing it to Arthur.

He studied it and then handed it back, circling both their names and labeling them as "undetermined." "Alright then, that's all we needed. We'll just do a quick sweep of your house and we'll be out within seconds."

The Russian man gestured for us to go ahead, so we did. And seriously. Weirdest. House. Ever. That's all I got to say. Like, completely indescribable. After peeking in all the rooms, we left in a hurry, determined that the next person on the list would be a heck of a lot less terrifying. Especially seeing how it was one of the most seemingly nice guys that was in the troop. Feliks, the crossdressing wonder.

"Hey," I pointed out as we left. "What about Toris and Raivis? We never checked them. They could be total freaky murderers or something!"

"You know, that's actually quite a valid point. I forgot to ask why they were there… oh well, we'll get them at their own homes later. I am in no hurry to revisit that… well, I believe the appropriate description would be torture chamber."

I shook my head and made a clicking noise. "Nah, I don't think so. More like an SNM chamber!"

I watched as the smaller man shuddered, then shook his head. "Ugh, never mind that! Call Elizaveta and have her give us everyone's addresses. It'll go much quicker if we get them all and then get it done."

I obeyed my leader's command and took out my phone, calling said chick. She answered on the first ring and said, again, without me asking, everything that we needed to know while I told Arthur so that he could write it down. Within minutes, we were on our way to the Poles house, which happened to be in the same complex as Ivan. How lucky could we get, right? Right! So we headed to it, chatting carelessly about how that crazy Hungarian knew what we were about to ask.

"Y'know," I said, "I bet she has these little microphones that she attached to all of us during the musical! That way, she could keep tabs on us all and know if we were lying about why we missed practice or not! Wow, that would be so beast!"

He scoffed and asked, "If she had put them on us, by now they would have fallen off. After all, we've slept since then."

I couldn't resist adding, "Or… NOT slept…"

"I'm going to smack you upside your insanely massive head. Tell me, Alfred, which is bigger? Your ego or your skull?"

I grinned, easygoing, putting my hands behind my head and looking up lazily. "I'd have to say my ego, but I have something that's bigger than even that!"

"Really?" he had the balls to ask. "What's that?"

My smile widened as he completely missed my joke. I pretended that something was going in one ear and out the other, making a zoom-like noise. When he still stared at me blankly, I put a hand on my crotch and did a small pelvic thrust. Finally, it sank in and he smacked my shoulder, his face burning red.

"You are an absolute moron!"

"Oh, you know you like it!" I teased.

Grumpily, he spat, "Do not. Now shut up, because we're here."

He knocked on the door loudly and unhesitatingly twice, waiting patiently for a few second before we heard a weird noise being emitted from the inside. Looking at each other, we both pressed on ear to the door in an attempt to hear better. Yup, I was sure that it was definitely singing of some sort… but what song? I knew I'd heard this before…

Out of nowhere, the door burst open and there Feliks stood, wearing a skirt and a sweater, plus green and red fuzzy socks with cotton balls on the laces, showing his definite Christmas spirit. "MAN! I like totally feel like a woman!" he sang, dancing around in the doorway. "Doo do da doo do do do!"

It seemed neither me nor Arthur knew what to say. MIND EXPLOSION! When we just gaped at him, he stopped dancing and crossed his arms, flipping his girly blond hair impatiently.

"What? It's like you guys have never, like, listened to Shania Twain! You totally should sometime! Anyway, why are you, like, here?"

I seemed to get my voice first, Arthur being too dazed to speak. "Um, we have a few questions… for you. Y'know, when you're done feeling like a woman and all."

He studied his pink, manicured nails studiously, looking at us with a twitch of his green eyes. "Like, what KINDS of questions? I'm totally decorating for Christmas, so don't take up my time and stuff!"

"Eh… can we come in?" For once, I felt almost speechless as I stared past the sparkly man to the ten times more sparkly house, which was smothered in Christmas stuff from floor to ceiling. With a shrug and indifferent sigh, he hip twitched out of the way, motioning for us to come in as he went over and killed the music, which I would be eternally grateful for. Again feeling awkward, we sat down on his couch, which was whiter than I thought any couch could possibly be, trying to avoid squishing some little Santa or reindeer figurines that were lying about and ignore the popping of tinsel under our asses.

"So, what can, like, the Totally Fab Feliks do for you?"

Gaining back some of my former energy, finally getting over the initial shock of what had met us at the door, I popped off the, sticking my finger in his face and screaming, "WHAT IS TODAY IF TOMORROW IS YESTERDAY'S THURSDAY?"

"Uh… like, Wednesday?" The poor Polish man looked totally thrown for a loop.

I had him right where I wanted him!

"See," Arthur said, finding his voice again, "This is why I can't allow you to be the head detective. You're too bloody childish! Step aside and let me do it. Actually, Feliks, the reason we're here is because, well, I'm sure you've heard of the murders that have struck the cast of the play, yes? We're here to get your alibi. So, where were you on both days?"

"Uh, duh! I was here, decorating for Christmas! Like, these thing don't just do themselves, I hope you know!"

Arthur looked thrown for a loop again by the way he was being talked to. "Hehe, yes, I do. In fact, I wish I was at my own house at this very moment doing the same, minus the Shania Twain and skirt. But we have to find out what's going on before it's too late for Matthew… or anyone else, for that matter. So, if you don't mind, we'll take a look around your house and get out of your hair."

I watched curiously as Arthur crossed through Feliks' name on the list in front of him, without giving him nearly as much crap as he'd given Ivan and Yao. As we entered a random room, I came up beside him and hissed under my breath as Feliks started up the music again, killing me inside, "Hey, dude, why'd you cross his name out? His alibi is completely non-existent!"

He gave me a look like he thought I was the stupidest idiot on the face of life. He probably thought I was. "Do you SEE HIM? He's out there dancing to "Man, I Feel Like a Woman"! If he could possibly kill someone, then I like to kiss pictures of hot young naked men!"

I raised an eyebrow and was about to say something when he cut me off.

"Don't. You. DARE."

I shrugged, a stupid grin rising up on my face as we went through the last room and found nothing but very… gay Polish male type things. Just as we concluded our search, we heard a light knock on the door and Feliks danced over to go get it and mentally scar someone else. It turned out to be Toris, looking ragged and tired, like he had been slaving for someone all day.

Oh yeah. He had.

There were dark circles under his tired blue eyes and his grin was half-hearted as he pulled the blond into his arms and gave him a hug, letting out a heavy sigh before spotting us and looking a little surprised. "Oh, hello again," he said politely, giving a small wave. "Sorry I didn't get to say that earlier, but if I spoke, I would get… Nevermind! So what are you guys doing here? Same thing you did at Ivan's?"

"Yup! We just finished! Well, except that it's your turn. Where were you?" I cried, relieved that I finally got to be the interrogator.

He flopped down onto Feliks' couch and said, "I was either at Ivan's or helping Feliks with his Christmas decorations. That's all I ever do these days…"

I saw Arthur scratch out his name out of the corner of my eye.

"In that case," I said, summing it up, "We'll be leaving! We WILL find my brother! Thanks guys."

And we left, still without our murderer. Next on the list was Ludwig, and unfortunately, he lived halfway across the world from where we were now. All the way on the other side of bleeping New York City. It was times like this I wished my boyfriend had his powers back. All of a sudden, I heard a beeping out of nowhere and looked over at the Englishman to see that his cellphone was going off. Just as I was about to ask what that meant, he looked up at me all cute and sexy and exclaimed, "Yes! My powers are back!"

Wow, could that have been more convenient?

"Really? Has it been 24 hours already? Nu-uh!"

"Actually, it really hasn't. But the higher magicians have investigated the scene and realized that no harm was meant or anything, so they're giving them back to me. But if you mess up another spell, God help me, I will smite you where you stand, you fool! They'll probably suspend me or something awful like that! In the meantime, though, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Just a simple spell will get us to Ludwig's house in a jiff!"

And, just like that, he snapped and we were gone, appearing within milliseconds in front of the door that could only be Ludwig's. Seeing how there were German flags on the door and all. Of course, there was a few Italian ones, but it was likely that Feliciano either lived there or had been let loose on it and given stickers or something. Resisting the urge to touch a really sparkly one, I feigned my reaching for it as a knock on the big door. Arthur rolled his eyes at me, seeing through my lame farce as I straightened up, just in time for the buff, extremely burly German man to open the door and stare at us with piercing blue eyes as the blood ran off his black gloves onto the floor.


	11. Mastermind

**Well, this is it, for those of you who care. It may not make sense, but as a writer i am a very distractable person, so this is just to finish it up. Hope you like, please review, since it IS the last one ;)**

Silently we stood there and stared at each other, all unable to say anything as more blood trickled to the floor at his boots. Eventually, after what felt like forever, the big German man cleared his throat, looking almost like he was… blushing.

"Can I help you?" he asked, glancing back into the house, very suspiciously in my opinion.

"I don't know," I exclaimed, sticking a finger in his face. "Can you? You tell us, you murderer!"

My words seemed to astonish him, since he stared at me blankly for a few seconds and then looked at his gloves, still coated thickly with the red substance with shock. Just as he was about to protest, Feli skipped up, his hands also smothered in goo.

Arthur's eyes widened. "What the bloody hell are you two DOING in there, dissecting a cat?"

"No, but they probably ARE dissecting my brother!" I growled, pushing past the confused Italian and the irritated German into his house. "Where is he? Show me what you did with him, or by the United States of America I am going to… do something bad to you! And that's a promise," I added as I began to search through Ludwig's rooms. "Let's see what we got… okay, porn, porn, porn, p- oh wait, no, that's bestiality. Uh, more porn, book on weapons, porn… whoa, you have a book of heroes? SWEET! And it's, like, a picture book and everything!"

I opened it and feverently started looking through the pictures, only to have it snatched out of my hand and get smacked on the head with it. "Alfred, we're here looking for your brother, not books of stupid heroes who probably didn't do anything to deserve what they've claimed to have done due to the fact that the person who actually did it was too slow to tell everyone! There's nothing in here. Let's go someplace else, like the kitchen."

Reluctantly, I followed the Brit out of the room, glancing back at the awesome book one more time before we walked into the kitchen and found the whole room covered in various hues of blood, especially on the counter. It looked like a butcher's shop. I saw Arthur jot something down out of the corner of my eye before he went over and peered at the extremely dead pig on the counter with evident disgust at the whole situation. With a shrug, I went over and stuck my hands inside of the corpse, determined to see if it was possible to get so much blood on your hands with only one little piggy. Turned out, it was.

"Alfred Jones, what ARE you doing?" Arthur asked me, exasperated. Seeing that I was about to answer, he hurriedly interrupted. "No, no. I'll answer that for you. You're tampering with evidence and being your usual, increasingly unhelpful self who seems to not care about his own brother's life!"

I crossed my arms, accidentally dripping blood all over myself and stuck my lips out in a pout. "I care!"

"Then why don't you stop screwing around and get with it! Come on, he isn't here. And I don't think either of these two killed Gilbert or Roderick also. All they're doing is…" He threw a strange look over at the oinker. "Well, I'm not quite positive, but I'm assuming this is to be dinner. Let's move on, we aren't even halfway there yet and we haven't any leads in the slightest."

"But I'm tired!" I pretended to whine, just to grate at his nerves.

I saw him grit his teeth, trying to prevent himself from saying something rude or kicking my butt and smiled at him, watching him melt under my gaze. He took a few deep breaths and grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the apartment as we all said goodbye to each other. Or… I said goodbye and so did Feli. The other two just glared crankily at me.

"Next on the list… let's see, we'll do Berwald. I say we get the most terrifying people out of the way now, wouldn't you agree? Actually I don't care if you do or don't… now grab my hand." He shoved his hand out for me, so I took it, confused as to what he was suggesting.

"Wait, we're DOING Ber-" I started, but he didn't let me finish my pervy joke before he started chanting.

Closing his eyes and looking down in concentration, he muttered, "Santa Rita Meeta Mater Ringo Jonah Tito Marlin Jaclyn Toya Janet Michael DumbleDora the Explorer!"

_The Next Day_

We had gone through everyone on the list. We had checked every single bleeping person's house that had been in the musical from start to finish. We had gotten to Berwald's house, only to have it answered by the much smaller and way less threatening Finn, Tino, who had politely told us that the Swede was not at home, but he was sure that Berwald wouldn't care if his house was searched, and even that we could search his, just down the hall. Both had come out clear and we'd moved on, praying to God that the answer to this would faster and easier than it appeared it would.

As it was, God had declined that prayer, leaving us not only totally without suspects, but without hope of ever finding my brother again. By now, 24 hours had passed, so we had the cops helping us as well, but the whole thing just seemed hopeless. Even I was starting to doubt that he could still be alive. I mean, it was a stretch that we would find half of his blood supply written in words on the wall and find him okay, even! The chances got lower with every day that passed…

Just like that, it hit me. There was one person who we hadn't checked, even though the name was on the list. Come on, it had just seemed too… unlikely, especially since this specific person had been helping us since the beginning, when we were trying to figure out who possibly could have done it. But what reason… what motive would there be behind the actions? Why would this person want Roderick dead? Why Gilbert? Why steal poor Matthew away?

"Arthur," I gasped, rising up from my seat across from him on the couch slowly, where we both had been sitting and thinking. "I got it! Dude, I totally know who did it!"

With an irritable sigh, he crossed his arms across his chest and growled, "This better not be another one of your brilliant exclamations, only to have me tell you we've totally searched that person already."

"It isn't! I know for a fact we didn't search this person, because this person was an ally, or so we thought, from the beginning. But it was just a lie, a diversion to draw our eyes away from the real criminal. And do you know who that criminal is, Arthur?"

"I would if you'd just bloody tell me…"

"Elizaveta."

As soon as our eyes met, his wide with shock, mine dark with certainty, I knew I was right. She had known all along that we could never suspect her of killing Roderick, because she loved him so much. Killing Gilbert was admittedly less of a stretch, but still shocking. Then, at the end, taking Matthew and smudging his blood all over the wall… it was so uncalled for and unlikely, we had never even stopped to think rationally! But now, she would finally get what was coming to her.

Without a word spoken between us, I took my boyfriend's hand and watched him silently as he cast his spell and we went whizzing through the air. Moments later, the scenery had changed and we were in a small, but pleasant apartment that was totally feminine and girly. The walls were covered with yaoi of all kinds, along with other anime posters as well. Dude, she even had a yaoi RUG. I didn't even know they MADE those! Her couch was, thankfully, normal and she was actually just sitting on it, T.V. on. The noise we had made coming in caused her to look up in shock, her green eyes growing larger.

"Arthur? Alfred? How on Earth did you get in here?"

I opened my mouth to remark snarkily, but was interrupted by Arthur, who had pulled out a pistol and was aiming it right at the pretty brunette's head. "Nevermind that. Put your hands up where we can see them, you filthy lying bitch."

Whoa… I had never seen Arthur so… terrifying! It was totally hot!

"Wh-what are you talking about? Why are you bursting into my house and pointing guns at me?" She got quiet for a second, only to speak again, only this time frantically. "Wait… you think I did it? Alfred, please! Please, don't let him shoot me! I didn't do it, you can check the house if you like!"

With an animalistic snarl, Iggy shouted again, "I told you to put your hands up, bitch! That's an order, not a compromise! So do it, unless you want a bullet through your thick skull!" Aside, he whispered to me, "Search the house. I'll keep her out of the way."

I could hardly believe what the heck was going on, but I did as I was told, as did Elizaveta, who finally cooperated and put her hands in the air, trembling with terror. Never screw with a dude who's got a gun. Not even if he's a dainty English gentleman who just a few days ago didn't even hang out with the rest of the musical cast and sat reading all the time and drinking tea. It was like he was a whole different person out there, holding people at gunpoint and looking uber sexy and like a flustered and livid policeman.

The first room I came in was relatively normal, just a bedroom coated in posters, nothing new there. The closet was full of clothes and shoes, like any other closet I'd seen. I even checked under the bed for a body, and under the covers, but found it painfully empty and moved on. There was a bathroom, which was empty, another bedroom, empty as well. And then there was the kitchen, which seemed completely normal if you just glanced at it lazily. But I had been paying a lot of attention to detail these past few days, so I saw it almost right off the bat.

A loose floorboard.

The wooden floor was moved ever so slightly in one spot, and it was such a stereotypical place to hide dead people! As I neared it, I became increasingly nauseous, my insides panicking at the thought of finding the cold, dead body of my small Canadian brother just thrown about, uncaringly strewn on the cold floor… Summoning up all my heroic courage, I pushed a panel out of the way and jumped down into more space than I assumed there could be under any apartment. Apparently, we were on the first floor.

It was a long, elaborate tunnel, dark and damp, like a nasty sewer or something. Arthur would have thrown a massive fit about the cleanliness of blablabla or whatever and complained about needing his shoes cleaned. The thought made me smile, though I knew that finding this dank opening under Elizaveta's place couldn't mean anything good for anybody. I trekked down it, finding that it got even more grody as it went along. Just as I was about to head back for fear this was a plan to try to kill intruders with the stench, I heard a soft moan that just barely echoed off the walls and reached my ears, a noise I had heard my whole life in the morning when I woke up next to my little brother.

"MATTHEW!" I cried, speeding down to where I had heard the sound. "Matthew, please, answer me!"

I heard another weak sound and recognized it as a cough, probably a sign to help me find where he was. It worked, probably better than his talking would, because when I found him, he looked like he'd been through hell. Or worse. It wasn't that he was hurt. Actually, he didn't look like he was all that injured, despite the long scar down his arm. But he was so skinny, like he hadn't been fed since he'd been taken, and he was in a DRESS. No joke, a full-on little pink ribboned dress, not to mention his face looked girlified, complete with blush and makeup.

"What the HELL?" I couldn't help but ask. I mean, if you found your brother laying in a disgusting sewer tunnel thing in a frilly pink doll dress with MAKEUP all over his face, wouldn't you ask the same thing?

The minute he saw me, he started to bawl and clung to me, trying to explain what happened through a voice thick with his tears. I patted his back, letting him get it all out before going up to absolutely MURDER Elizaveta. It was until I actually started to decipher his words that I realized this wasn't what it looked like.

"Wait!" I stopped him, putting a gloved hand over his mouth. "Repeat what you just said."

He sniffed up some snot before repeating, "Th-this guy took me when I was out in the hall… I don't know who it was, but he cut me and then I passed out. When I woke up again, he… he was SELLING me. Elizaveta was there… she b-b-bought me back, just yesterday. I don't know what happened in between when I was taken and then though…"

I stared at him, complete shocked. "She BOUGHT you? And didn't TELL me?"

"She didn't want you to see me like this…"

"So she HID YOU IN HER SEWER? Okay, that's it, I'm telling Arthur to blow her brains out!" I picked Mattie up bridal style, while he gasped in protest.

"N-no! Don't kill her! She saved me from being taken by a pervert!" he cried, pleading.

I looked down at him, my mind made up. "Maybe, but she knew I was looking for you! She could have told me she had you and I wouldn't have wasted all my energy searching for you, Mattie! I was terrified, even frantic about this and she KNEW! Plus, she put you in that damn dress and that is totally the last straw." I started back to where I had come from, only to stop short. "She knows who…" I breathed.

Two blue sapphires peered up at me in confusion and discomfort. "What?"

"She KNOWS WHO KILLED GILBERT AND RODERICK! It has to be the guy who took you, too! There's no way it's two different people! Come on, Matt, THINK! Who was it that took you? Who did this to you?" I was growing frantic and livid with my realization.

I could tell the way I was acting was stressing him out, but he listened and seemed to be searching back through his memory. "Uh, I only saw his face once... h-he had blond hair… I didn't hear his voice much, only once, as I was fading out, but it was deep… I think he had glasses, but…"

I continued walking, trying to pump through my brain the information he was giving me. Blond, glasses, and deep voiced… well, it wasn't the best description, but two people in specific came to mind, though really only one of them wore glasses all the time. "Eye color?" I questioned, not that it helped me differentiate between my two suspects.

"Blue, I think."

That was it. It had to be. Either it was Ludwig, who we had already checked out thoroughly or… Berwald, who we had also already thoroughly checked. They both fit my brother's descriptions to a tee, but everything about them was the same! The only difference had been that Ludwig was there when we had searched his house and Berwald… had not. But Tino had been in his house, cooperating willingly. Why hadn't I questioned then why Tino was all alone in Berwald's house? How had that seemed NORMAL to me? Dude, I had some serious issues… But now, it all seemed to make sense. The reason Berwald hadn't been there was that he had been out SELLING MY BROTHER. Tino was working with him, as was Elizaveta. They were all the killers, in some sense… but the real murderer, well, that was obviously the biggest and scariest one of them.

I broke into a run, in a hurry to share my findings with my partner. Matthew whimpered a little at my pace, but otherwise stayed quiet as I hurried back to the hole I had come in and went up through it again, placing my bro up there before I leaped up myself. I sprinted back to the living room, only to find Elizaveta had somehow found a gun too and was pointing it straight at the heart of my boyfriend. Her smile was maniacal, devious, demonic, causing me to wonder if really, she had been the killer after all. Or the mastermind behind it all.

I didn't think, just acted on instinct, as I usually did. I threw myself across the room and into her shoulder, the one connected to the arm holding the gun. As I did, it fired, narrowly missing Arthur's side, while we went toppling over together. As I had hoped, she dropped the gun, and I pinned her arms, giving Arthur the chance to grab it and push both weapons against her head, ready to kill. Surprisingly, she offered no resistance to the painful embrace and just smiled at the two of us, laughing manically like she WANTED to die.

"So," she hissed. "I see you found my little hiding place! I'm so glad you did, Alfred, otherwise poor little Mattie might have been stuck there for the rest of his life."

"What the hell do you mean?" Arthur snapped, pressing his guns in further.

She laughed again. "Oh, I mean that I never would have told you I bought him. I would have LEFT him down there until I needed to use him. Then, after I got done, I would just put him back and told him I couldn't tell you until he was well. Poor little Matthew, always believing what everyone tells him…"

I pulled her arms in tighter, distressed by her word usage. "You were going to use him? For what, a sex slave?"

"Not a sex slave for myself. Naturally, it was for a friend of mine who said he would help me make a yaoi movie! A movie is so much BIGGER than a yaoi play, don't you think? It would get me much richer, much faster. So all I had to do, he said, was kill some people. And, that was what I did. I got help and I had them kill people that would make me look completely innocent. You'd surprised who you can manipulate to do your bidding where love is involved."

"But… who? Who did you get to kill your lover? Matthew's?" Arthur demanded.

In unison, both Elizaveta and I said, "Berwald and Tino."

The crazed brunette laughed as I spoke with her. "So, you figured it out, Alfred. Good for you! All I had to do was threaten to take their lives and they did what they were told, like obedient puppies. But neither of them ever knew the other was involved and still don't. Tino was my assassin, because Berwald wouldn't do it. I had HIM steal Mattie, since I had to have him play a part and it wouldn't work if I didn't use them both. It was really quite simple, actually."

"And now you'll never get away with it, because you're under arrest," said Arthur, shocking even me into oblivion as he took out real handcuffs and hooked them around the insane girl's wrists, listing off her rights and pulling her up off the ground, taking out a walkytalky I hadn't noticed and speaking into it.

I stared blankly. "Wha…?"

With a smirk, he said, "Oh, did I forget to tell you? I'm an undercover cop for the New York City police department. Did I forget to tell you?"

"Uh, well, YEAH!" I said as other cops filed in, taking the Hungarian girl away. "You kind of did… so this whole time, you've, like, been investigating?"

He nodded, looking pleased that he had surprised me so sufficiently. "That's right, from the first day. And now, we've had a complete confession, though I have to say I'm very upset by the fact we'll have to put Tino and Berwald in prison for association with murder. But at least you've found your brother. And thank you, Alfred. I never would have found the culprit if you hadn't been my partner in undoing crime."

Then, unexpectedly, he leaned up and kissed me, right in front of the other police dudes, who gawked for a few seconds before going back to doing their jobs. It lasted only half a second, but it was something at least and he pulled away grinning, looking honestly satisfied with the way it had all turned out.

"Hey, Iggy?" I asked. "Does this mean we can go back to normal now? I'm really sick of people dying and stuff."

"Well, at least for now, although there are plenty of things we still need to get out of Elizaveta before it's truly over," he answered, gazing thoughtfully at nothing.

"BEAST!" I yelled, reaching into my jacket and taking out a warm, juicy burger, then biting into it, feeling accomplished.

The atmosphere was so calm that I could almost block out the cries of Tino and Berwald's pain and suffering in the background as they were forever ripped away from each other, both for trying to save the one that they loved.

Almost.


End file.
